You Make It Real
by MyStateOfMind
Summary: Sequel to Believe In Me. Three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared from the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it too real to handle?
1. So Called Mr Rock'n'Roll

_**Title:**__ You Make It Real_

_**Summary:**__ Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. She's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note:**__ So I'm back! A little later than scheduled (I mean New Year was Thursday and I'm writing this on Tuesday, so yes, I'm late) but I had a terrible time planning everything out chapter by chapter and now that I've done it, I feel I'm in a much better position to actually post up a first chapter for you guys. Now I can focus on bringing you the updates and not on working out what's happening next. But thank you for your amazing reviews on the last chapter of Believe In Me (there were so many – my inbox was bursting, I swear) and for those of you that didn't like it, I hope you'll like this sequel better. Again, __Smitchie-Shipper__, you know how much you rock for putting up with my argh-ing about the planning and the ideas and how they link together, and I know you're looking forward to certain chapters in particular and I hope I do them justice because I'm itching to write that scene so much (you know which one I'm talking about). But yes! Here you guys go, I'm going to get caught up on replying to PMs people have sent to me in the past few days and I hope it goes down as well as BIM did!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Wow, we're back to this again. Yeah, I don't own._

_**Music: **__Mr Rock 'n' Roll – Amy McDonald_

"_**So-called Mr Rock 'n' Roll, he's dancing on his own again"**_

"That sounded real good, man!" Jason stated, ripping his headphones off and spinning around on the swivel stool in the recording booth. The grin on his face was contagious and soon it was spread across my face too, the keys under my fingers warm from the amount of use they'd had in this recording session. Which, for the record, was a lot.

Glancing over at Nate, I saw that Jason's contagious smiling disease had gotten the better of him too. Or maybe it was just the fact that finally – after saying we would so many times – we were in a recording studio for the first time in three years. Since we'd left the record label and their will to make us into manufactured, bubblegum rockstars (if there was such a thing) we'd been writing and waiting for the right opportunity. No mistakes this time around.

This was the right opportunity. This was perfect. Under a new band name (not Connect 3, which was not even our choice in the first place) and with new material that all three of us had labored over and worked so hard to get just right, not to mention with ourselves as our own management team, it was like... it was like starting out all over again. There was only one thing – or person – that could possibly make this whole existence more perfect than it already was. And she was all the way over the freakin' Atlantic Ocean.

Mitchie Torres was all the way in London, England.

Or... last I heard she was. Last time Nate informed me about where and how she was, she was celebrating her twenty-first birthday in London, taking a trip to Paris to commemorate the big two-one. The last time I _saw _her, she'd only just turned eighteen and I was almost twenty. Now she was twenty-one and I'm twenty-three. Talk about scary.

"That sounded really great guys," Andy the tech guy came over the speakers and gave us a thumbs up from behind the glass. "A couple more songs like that and we'll have a better comeback than Britney on our hands."

Nate laughed; a sound that I was very familiar with by now. While the past three years hadn't been the easiest three years of my life, we'd all seemed to be a lot more relaxed. I'd heard Nate laugh and chill out a lot more. Weirdly enough, I'd become more serious about life. Not... too serious, because come on, you're around for too short of a time to get too serious about the world. But I definitely wasn't freaking out about my hair not being straight enough anymore. And Jason? Well... Jason was still Jason. Insanely interested in birds and always the last to get jokes, Jason was older and a little bit quicker when it came to understanding things. Might have been the girlfriend he went and got himself when we first permanently located to LA. Ella. They were happy. Which made me happy for him, I guess.

As for Nate's love life? Pretty much like mine: non-existant. Well... okay, lie. He was still interested in Caitlin. Why else would he keep in contact with her for three years, even though the one reason he was in contact with her away had moved across the other side of the world? Alright, they can both insist that they're 'just friends' (not that I have spoken to Caitlin since a few weeks after Mitchie left, but I'm assuming she'd say the same thing) but I've been there. I know these things. But Nate's a chicken and won't ask her to hang out, even though he knows for a fact that she's attending college in LA. Which is where we are. I mean _seriously, _is he waiting for an invitation or something?

I guess it's all very well and good for me to slam him, but truthfully... I probably fail just as much. I tried to stay in contact with Mitchie, honest to God I did. But the first few emails were hard and I couldn't just talk to her as though she was just a friend to me. Because she isn't just a friend to me. I can't imagine ever just being her friend. Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder was one smart dude. Because I think I love her just as much as I did when she got in the car and drove out of my life. Which is sort of pathetic, if you think about it properly. Jeez, I might never see her again. I haven't heard from her in three years. She might've forgotten about me, or moved on, or found someone else to put her faith in. Waiting for something that might never come back around is pointless.

But that didn't make me want to let her go. No matter how many times the guys tried to set me up with some pretty girl – who was probably great when you got to know her, but I couldn't bring myself to get that far – I couldn't stop comparing them all to Mitchie. I just couldn't.

"Boys!" A new voice entered the studio – the familiar English accent bouncing around the soundproof area we were still sitting in through the speakers – and I automatically smiled. One plus at being in California was my Uncle Brown, who taught a music class at the local college and, when he had the time, taught some of the kids at Camp Rock – the summer music camp that I'd set up two years ago.

Long story short: when Mitchie left, I realized that everything she'd said to me had been true. And I wanted to do something for someone else for a change. I wanted to just forget all about me and offer someone else comfort. And I'd found out that Camp Rock - the place where I'd begun and the place that held so many memories for me that were back when I was just Shane and having fun - was being closed down due to lack of funding. It would be gone, unless somebody bought it over. And I'd remembered what Mitchie had said about wanting to be a singer and how she thought she'd never get the opportunity and how she'd mentioned how millions of people would love to be in my shoes and then I'd happened across that picture of me and Abby – the little girl at the diner – and the rest was history. A music camp for kids that might otherwise not get the opportunity to pursue music. All funded by Shane Grey, though nobody apart from Nate, Jason, me, Uncle Brown and Dee, the woman who looked after it on a day-to-day basis. And the bank, but they don't count. Camp Rock was staying open.

Two years on, it's still popular as ever. This is the third summer that it's been open and some of the kids have come along to every one. Rebecca Evans – my little Mariah Carey in the making. Jacob Hartnett – I swear, if he isn't a rockstar in the future it'll be an injustice. Evelyn Meadows – hip-hop dancer extraordinare... They're all so talented and it makes me feel like I'm doing something. I'm doing something for people who need it. Mitchie would be proud, I think. Or I like to think anyway.

"Guess who made an appearance on page 26 of US Weekly?" Brown said, grinning at the three of us through the glass that separated us from the machines that had been recording us, minutes ago.

I stood up from my place at the piano, shrugging exaggeratedly. "Gee, I don't know. Who could it be?"

He glanced down at the page of the open magazine in his hands as I pulled open the door that took me out of the actual studio and made a face. "Hilary Duff. Apparently she's in a new movie. Think I should book my tickets in advance?"

"Hi to you too, Uncle B." I laughed, pulling my uncle in for a hug, as Jason and Nate emerged from the other room and shut the door behind them. "Another us-free US Weekly issue then?"

It wasn't uncommon anymore. We'd practically disappeared from the face of the Earth. Another fad that disappeared in a few years. There was sometimes the odd piece, when it was a slow news day, about where we were now and there was usually a low quality paparazzi snap of Jason and Ella on a date, Nate on the phone (coughCaitlincough) or me doing painfully normal things, like getting coffee or ordering pancakes in a diner. But we were no longer big news. Or, we wouldn't be. If our new stuff was as good as Andy the tech guy was claiming, then maybe that wouldn't be the case for too much longer. But we were no longer a teen band, that was for sure.

Brown nodded, flipping the magazine shut swiftly. "Looks very much like it, kid. That's sure to change soon though – I heard Andy saying you were going to make a better comeback than Britney? That's setting the bar high, Andy, my man."

"Nice to hear your confidence in us is so high, Brown," Nate said, picking up an apple from the huge mix of food we had, lurking around the studio. He threw it in the air and caught it, one- handedly, before looking over at me. "Want to give up for the day? We've done pretty well."

I shrugged. It didn't bother me. If we stayed here, we could nail 'Understatement', which we'd been trying to get perfect for ages. But if going home was the option, I could finish writing the song that had been bugging me for a few days. We needed one more song to go on the album, and this could be the one. Of course, I'd said that about my last few attempts to finish songs, but this really could be. Never know.

"Actually, I'm meeting Ella," Jason commented, scratching the side of his face as though he didn't really want to be the one to cause the end of the session, but at the same time really wanting to be able to go and mack on his girlfriend. "Last day before classes start and all..."

"Ah, this would be Ella Atherstone?" Brown said, glancing at me before he looked at Jason. How he knew her was beyond me, though he was Uncle Brown; sometimes I was sure he knew everything.

Jason nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. She's in your class this summer, right? She's totally excited about it. Which is why we want to take this opportunity before you start loading her with homework."

Brown laughed, and winked at me before nodding at Jason. "You'd be wise to do that, mate. With the study load I have planned, you might not see her again until September."

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, right. Everyone who took Brown's class knew that they probably wouldn't have too much homework. Just some performances and a whole lot of fun. It was how he operated. It was why he was so popular, with both teenagers and little kids alike. "Well, looks like we're done here for just now then. Jason has his girlfriend to meet."

"I mean... I can rearr -" Jason began, being typical Jason. Wanting to please everyone. Even when I was totally joking and more than okay with him meeting Ella. If it had been me and I'd been meeting Mitchie...

Well. It's not. So why even think about it?

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I was joking. You guys have fun."

Jason grinned at me, opening his mouth to say something in reply, when Nate's cell phone alerting him to a new text message cut him off. Nate jumped, pulling the handset out of his pocket and glancing at the screen. I didn't need more than one guess to figure out who it was. Caitlin hadn't texted for a while, and I knew from the small smile that came across his face that she'd finally gotten in touch. He thought he was so hard to read, but I found it too easy. Maybe it was because I was all-too familiar with that look.

"So, we'll be back here tomorrow then, Nate?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. He was tapping a reply into his phone, not letting anything from the outside world break his concentration from the touch screen in front of him.

Rolling my eyes when I got no reply – and hearing Jason, Uncle Brown and Andy laugh at the same thing – I lifted my hand in a wave. Funny. The person with the least to do was the one to leave first. You'd think it'd be the other way around.

"Well, I'll see you guys later. Tell Ella I said hi." I nodded at Jason and he beamed back at me, before looking over at Nate and seeing him still immersed in his texting, I figured I'd talk to him later. He probably wouldn't miss me too much. "Thanks Andy. See you later Uncle B."

I'd taken two steps out of the room and was heading down the hallway, before an English accent calling my name made me spin back in the direction of the door.

"Shane! Are you okay, son? The music going well? Camp Rock working out?" This was Uncle Brown's way of finding out how I was dealing with life in general. He knew how crap I felt when Mitchie left and was pretty much ready to do what he could to avoid me feeling like that again. It was just a shame that that was impossible. Unfortunately, Mitchie had made such an impact on me – something that I don't even know if she knew – that I could never forget her. And I doubted anybody would believe in me like she did. I just hoped that she hadn't found another voice in the dark. As selfish as that might sound, I really hoped she hadn't.

I nodded, smiling as best as I could. "Yeah. To all of the above. The album sounds great so far, the kids are loving the start of their summer, as usual... I'm looking forward to Final Jam this year."

He nodded along with me, but as soon as I'd finished talking he started on another subject, giving me the impression he'd not really been listening. Not that I raised this issue with him, because he'd moved on to something different. "Listen, Shane. What was this girl's name again? The one you met three years ago?"

"Why?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. Not many people mentioned her anymore, especially not around me. They didn't even go there. So there had to be a good reason for him asking, otherwise he wouldn't.

"I just - " he started, his gaze locked in mine, which told me that this was important. But why was it important?

Before I could find out, Nate and Jason emerged from the studio deep in conversation, but stopping dead as soon as they saw that I was still standing there. Well, that was a not-so-subtle assurance that they were talking about me. And my uncle was now looking over his shoulder as though he needed to go. Great. So I wouldn't find out anything?

"Um... see you later, Shane. Brown." Nate passed with a nod, a weird look on his face, and Jason followed quickly. What the heck had they been talking about to get them acting that strangely?

"You were saying?" I turned back to my uncle, sticking my hands in the pockets of my jeans and raising an eyebrow at him.

His eyes darted across the hallway, before he shrugged. "Yeah, about that, mate. I'll talk to you about it later. No hurry. I'll call you!"

With those last words, he was backing away down the corridor and heading down the stairs, not meeting my eyes again. So. Weird.

Sighing, I paused in the hallway for a second and then followed in his footsteps, except more slowly. Everyone else might've had to rush to get somewhere, but not me. Shane Grey had nothing to do and nobody to see. Three years ago, that would not have been the case at all.

Three years ago.

Holy crap, three years felt like a lifetime.

I wondered how long it had felt like to her. Had it felt as long as it had for me? Had every day dragged by and had she thought about me too many times to count?

Or had it gone by in no time? Was I just another distant memory? Did she still believe in me?

Reaching the lobby, I pushed open the door that took me out into the warm, July, LA sun and breathed in the city air for a second. Nobody recognised me as they passed by. Nobody even batted an eyelid. Mr. Shane Grey. Mr. Rock Star. Yet nobody even seemed to care.

Three years. One thousand and ninety five days. Twenty six thousand, two hundred and eighty hours. One million, five hundred and seventy six thousand, eight hundred minutes.

And who knew how many more minutes, hours, days or years there were to come?


	2. I'm Coming Back

_**Title:**__ You Make It Real_

_**Summary:**__ Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. She's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note:**__ Two things to say before I get on with the chapter. One, OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH YOU GUYS AMAZE ME 56 REVIEWS ARE YOU KIDDING ME WOW LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AND I HOPE I LIVE UP TO EXPECTATIONS AND GAHHHH LOVE IT. Two, I need to proof-read a lot better because I made a mistake with the whole Camp Rock thing (which has been fixed now, thank you to Charlotte for pointing it out) and so have gone back and fixed it. For those that don't want to read it again, basically Camp Rock WAS going to be shut down and Shane bought it over, therefore making it his. It was the only thing I could think of to correct it and I hope it works! Now, onto Mitchie!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Nope, don't own._

_**Music: **__La La Lie – Jack's Mannequin_

"_**I'm coming back to my girl by July"**_

Welcome to LAX.

The sign greeted me as I waited for my luggage, reminding me that I was back home. Sure, I'd been in London for three years, but it felt good to being back to speaking in a similar accent to everyone else and not being the odd one out. And there was the detail of getting to complete my college education with my best friend ever. That was definitely a plus about coming back here. Even if I was on a whole different coastline than when I'd been here before.

Three years. Boy, oh boy. And in those three years I'd seen and done things that I could only have imagined before. I got to go to Paris for my twenty-first birthday. I got to go to Spain and to Italy and to Scotland. I was living in the capital city of England – the girl with the American accent amongst all these amazingly cool talking British people. It had been a crazy three years.

But...

There's always a but, isn't there? Always a nagging feeling in the back of your head that wonders what it would have been like had you made the other choice. Had you stayed in the driveway and sat on the roof and just... forgot the world. I did often catch myself wondering about a certain popstar and what he was doing at that very moment (although, because of the time difference, I usually worked out that he was probably sleeping). Sometimes I asked Caitlin about him and how he was doing, but she didn't know much. I often logged onto the Connect 3 fan sites to see if there was any news, but it looked like when I left Connect 3 fell of the face of the Earth too. Which was a pretty big coincidence...

I sighed, watching a family who had come from London on a summer vacation to California. The mom was carrying an infant on her hip, looking exasperated at the length of time that the luggage was taking. The dad was trying to catch their little girl, who was running around and hiding in all places imaginable – behind legs, under seats...

It's not like Shane tried to contact me, I thought, my mind wandering again. He didn't. A few emails to begin with, but gradually... we both couldn't take it. I still loved him. He still loved me. And an entire ocean between us was too much. Maybe if we'd tried a bit harder, he'd have been at the airport, waiting for me. But we didn't try harder and now... I'd probably never even see him again. Because honestly, his family lives in New Jersey. His record label headquarters (if he still needs them, that is) is in New York. What reason would he have for being in LA? Opposite sides of the country. Two worlds apart. Like I'd said to him.

"There it is!" The mom cried, lunging forward to get a heavy looking suitcase from off the conveyer belt. Finally, things were starting to appear, and the family were obviously in luck. Theirs had been one of the last on and so was one of the first off.

I watched as she struggled to pull it off, using only one hand, and then as the little girl was scooped up (from her hiding place behind a trashcan) into her father's arms. As the chaos and exasperation ceased, they smiled at each other and went to get through customs. The beginning of an adventure. Much like - I guess - I was on. It was new, that was for sure. It was new and kinda scary.

My mom and dad had stayed in London; my mom getting paid ridiculously well for working at the restaurant and my dad having his own hardware company over there. I'd been going to college in London for the first few years – after taking a year off after completing high school in order to travel around Europe, which was awesome – and then I'd gotten in touch with Caitlin again. She had been the one to suggest it. Come back here, join her in college (like we'd always planned we would) and I could start with some summer classes, just to get into the swing of things. She had an dorm room with an extra bed and she wanted me there. Three years had been way too long to be gone.

It took less time than I'd expected to convince my parents. At first they were slightly hesitant; they didn't want me in a whole other country, even if I was now twenty-one and legally no longer in their care whatsoever. But they knew how much I wanted to go back and couldn't really put up too much of a fight. It hadn't taken long for me to pack my necessities and book a flight. They'd seen me off at Heathrow airport, as had my friends from London, and eleven hours later... here I was. Back on US soil.

Back home.

Spotting my purple case in amongst all the black, I darted forward and pulled it off with one swift motion. The quicker I got back through customs, the quicker I could see Caitlin and get sorted. There was a hell of a lot I had to sort out. A job, my classes, my friends... I had to begin my new life back here, in America, like I'd done three years ago when I moved away.

I picked it up, dodging around all the people who were embarking on new adventures of their own, and made my way to the desk. Seeing as I was a US citizen, it wouldn't take long. I wanted to get out of this airport and into the LA sun and into the new chapter in Mitchie Torres' life.

Well, if you can do it once...

The guy at the desk motioned me forwards when it was my turn, nodding at me once before extending his hand to see my passport. How many people must he have checked into the country already today? A lot, I'd bet.

"Michaela Torres?" he asked, though he could fully see that that was what it said on my passport. I always wondered why they asked stupid questions at airports.

I nodded. "That's me."

"Business or pleasure?"

"I'm starting college at the California College of Music... so, whichever one that comes under," I stated, trying to work it out. Both, I guess. Business because it was college, pleasure because it was music. My music.

He nodded at me, glancing from the picture to my face. "Okay. Have a great stay." Sliding my passport back over the counter to me, he turned away and looked at the next person in line. I was just someone else he'd seen that day. Another passenger, another life passing by.

"Thanks," I said, before moving away and through the doors that had 'EXIT' written across them in big letters. As though people might miss it. The family were up in front of me, laughing and pulling their large suitcase behind them. I wondered what they were doing and where they were going. Did they have a plan, like I did? Or was it just a matter of finding their own way?

What about Shane? Did he have a plan anymore, now that Connect 3 seemed to be history? Or was he just trying to find his way? Part of me hoped he knew where he was going and was still believing in himself. And the other part... well... maybe if he didn't know where he was going, fate might feel the need to intervene. And he might find himself in LA, on my doorstep. Because I can't say that I wouldn't like that.

I missed him, okay? I missed him like crazy. I don't think I've gone a day without something reminding me of him since I met him, and when you're trying so hard to find yourself, being reminded of the past isn't great. But I wouldn't want it any other way. Because while I'm still thinking of him, I cling onto the small hope that he might still be thinking of me. He might still be thinking about me.

Though... what right did I have to hope that? He wanted me. I'd left. I'd broken his heart. I'd walked away. Why should I hope that he was still thinking about me? Talk about selfish. I should hope he'd moved on and found someone a million times better than me who would never walk away and who was ready for everything that being with Shane Grey came with.

Not... that he seemed to come with anything anymore.

Ugh. I shook my head. I'd obviously not slept enough on the plane. I had been awake for about twenty hours without sleep now. That had to be taking it's toll on me and making me think such... such... whatever.

Shane still plaguing my thoughts, I walked out into the crowded waiting area. People in suits with placards reading various names. Families, hugging and kissing each other as they were reunited. Friends seeing each other for the first time in years. A couple, embraced in a kiss as a guy I recognised from the flight came back home. It reminded me of Love, Actually. Love really is all around.

"OH MY GOD MITCHIE!"

It didn't take a genius to work out where and who that voice came from, and I couldn't stop the grin from writing itself on my face as I turned around and found myself face-to-face with my best friend. Who looked fabulous, by the way.

"Caitlin!"

"Mitchie!"

"Ahh!"

"Double ahh!"

I laughed and dropped my case, hugging her as tight as I could. God, she had been so right. Three years had been way too long. "I missed you so much!"

"I missed you more!"

"No way," I shook my head at her as I pulled away.

Caitlin nodded, her mischievous smile playing on her lips, just like I remembered it. "You wanna bet? While you were living it up in London, I had to spend my last year of high school listening to Rochelle go on about how you'd run away because you couldn't face the music. Literally. Do you _know _how much I wanted to let her in on the fact that Shane Grey had come to your house and threatened to throw himself off the roof for you to stay? Do you comprehend how difficult it was for me to keep my trap shut? Can you fathom the agony I went through not spilling those beans all over her fake designer boots?"

"I can possibly imagine," I said, not really wanting to get involved in a discussion about Shane. I mean, I'd only just been back for about an hour. And I'd decided I'd never see him again. There was no point in talking about it. "The phone is an amazing invention, but it's just not as good as seeing you. And the pictures you sent me do not do you justice, Cait, you look amazing!"

She laughed, her curls bouncing up and down. "You don't look too shabby yourself. And you have the excuse of being on a plane for eleven hours. God, imagine what you look like when you've had a wash. Can you say smokin'?"

I rolled my eyes, still grinning at her. "Nate does not know what he's missing, I swear."

"Shut up." It was Caitlin's turn to roll her eyes, and as I picked my bag up again and followed her out of the doors and into the July California sunshine (which felt so amazingly good) she carried on talking. "Nate and I do not talk as much as you think we talk, I swear. The occasional text, a phone call or two every few months."

"Uh-huh," I said, not convinced. From what little I'd heard, she was still in contact with Nate. And she liked still being in contact with Nate. Because she liked Nate. "And I bet when you do talk, it's always about the stock market and the credit crunch, instead of flirty banter."

Her hand went out and she flagged down a taxi that was passing the front of the airport. "I'll have you know that Caitlin Gellar does not do flirting and that we have very educational conversations."

I laughed as she opened the trunk of the taxi and I lifted my case to fling it in. I'd travelled light because I figured that I could buy what I needed here. Mom and Dad said they'd ship my other stuff over to me, bit by bit. "Oh yeah? Give me an example of the last educational conversation you had."

"We talked about politics the other week," she said, slamming the trunk back down (and just missing trapping my hands in it) and walking around to get in the back seat of the waiting cab.

I did the same, sliding in the other side and raising an eyebrow at her. "You. Talked about politics. With Nate Williams."

Caitlin nodded at me, her eyes sincere, before leaning forward and talking to the taxi driver. "California College of Music please." Turning back to me, she shrugged. "I can have intelligent conversations too, you know."

I laughed, pushing my hair out of my face. It had been a long journey and it was considerably hotter here than it had been in London. "I'm not buying it. You were obviously just talking about politics to try and impress him."

"Jeez, I can't win with you, can I?" she said, faking annoyance and waving her arms around. "I don't talk educational then I'm flirting. I talk educational then I'm trying to impress. Tell me how to win because I really, really want to!"

"I have missed you way too much," I said, laughing. "Seriously, how have I lasted so long without you?"

My best friend shrugged, her eyes glinting at me. "I have no idea, Mitchie. I have no clue at all. But you no longer have to last, because you're back!"

I grinned, glancing out the window at the people outside. All of them immersed in their own lives. All of them going somewhere. "I am back. And I need to make up for lost time. You said something about a band? And when do my classes start? And I need to get a job, so if you have any recommendations..."

Caitlin processed all of these questions, straightening out her guitar print t-shirt as she got ready to answer. "A band, yes. I'm working with a band and helping them write songs and they're really good, Mitchie. They're amazing. Obviously you, being the master of writing songs, need to get involved with this one, because my lyrics do not even compare to your works of art. Classes start in two days, which doesn't give you a lot of time to settle in, but the teacher is beyond awesome and the class are really friendly. So you'll be fine. And as for a job... I could get you in at McDonalds, which is where I slave away to pay for my college education. It sucks, but it pays? Or, you know, you could find your own job."

"I don't know about me being the master of writing songs, Cait. And the teacher is beyond awesome?" I said, shaking my head. "And I guess McDonalds is fine. It's not for forever, right?"

"You're definitely one of the best songwriters I know, Mitchie, don't even be modest. And Brown will think so too, when you meet him. He'll love you, I know he will. He goes crazy for people who can write and sing and Mitchie, you can do both." She seemed adamant about this, and while I'd been away for three years, I knew that you rarely ever won an argument with Caitlin when she was like this. Plus, she'd already carried on speaking about McDonalds. "And I sincerely hope it's not forever. God, how depressing would that be?"

I laughed – laughed like only Caitlin could make me laugh – and rolled my eyes at us. "I love how we're having three separate conversations at once."

"There is nobody else I could have three separate conversations at once with," she smirked at me, and I knew that she'd missed me as much as I'd missed her.

"Tell me about it," I said, smiling back at her.

The whole point of me going to London was to find myself. Find what I wanted and what I was ready for. And do you know what I found out? That it's all very well and good not being ready for things and needing to find out who you are... but when you leave people behind that mean so much to you, you're constantly looking over your shoulder. Looking over your shoulder to try and gain support from them. But they're not there. They were on another continent. Another timezone.

So, did I find myself?

I don't know. I found out a lot about myself. I found out that I could be independent and I could learn to live without people and start anew. I was still in love with singing and writing songs and music, and that was such a big part of me, I doubted I could ever dispense the love of music from me. I found out that it's good to take a breath and take a break and work things out for yourself. I felt a lot older and a lot more prepared for the world in general, I knew that much. But was it what I'd expected? No. Because I probably never would find out if I was ready now.

Shane had wanted me. He'd wanted to be with me. He'd been ready to be with me. And I hadn't been. And now, three years on, I'd lost contact with him. I had no idea where he was or what he was doing. And I might never get to know that. Which meant that I might never find out if those three years had made me ready, or if they'd been a waste of time.

Caitlin was still looking at me, her face showing that she was deep in thought. I wondered whether she knew where Shane was. She was, after all, still in contact with Nate. Surely she could know where he was.

But did I want to know? God, I'd given him such grief over being selfish, and maybe if I threw myself back into his life when he was over me... that would be a selfish thing to do, right?

Ugh. Jet lag and lack of sleep and arguments in my head were not a good mix.

"You okay, Mitchie?" Cait asked, snapping out of thought and looking at my face, which I imagined wasn't that restful.

I nodded, glancing back out of the window and then turning back to her. "Yeah. Yes, I'm totally fine. Just... really tired. I have no idea what time it's supposed to be in London right now, but I have a feeling it's an hour that I'm supposed to be sleeping through."

My best friend laughed, as the taxi slowed to a stop outside what I presumed was the college I'd be going to. "Well, just in time then." Reaching forward, she handed the cab driver some bills and then pushed open her door, me copying the action. After pulling my case from the trunk, I shut it and he was on his way.

I watched for a minute, as he pulled out into the road and eventually disappeared in amongst all the other cars. All the other cars going on their own destinations. What had all the drivers in those cars been doing for the past three years? Had they been trying to find themselves too?

"Mitchie!" Caitlin cried from behind me, and I turned to find that she was already halfway to the door that I presumed would take me to my new dorm room. "You coming?"

I nodded, following her as quickly as I could with the case trailing behind me. Yeah, I was coming. It wasn't like I had anywhere else I needed to be. This was it from now on. Me and Cait. In LA. On our own.

The start of a whole new chapter.


	3. Just Keep Chasing Pavements

_**Title:**__ You Make It Real_

_**Summary:**__ Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. She's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note:**__So first of all, I have a major apology to offer. It's been ages since I updated, but I got a part in the school musical and I've been swamped under exams and coursework and stuff. I haven't forgotten about this story, I promise! I also want to thank you for getting me to 100 reviews after only two chapters! That's crazy. Totally crazy. And thirdly, I want to say SNOW DAYYY! Only reason I had the time to write this yesterday was because of the lack of school, so major kudos to the snow right now. Anyway, it's a horribly short one (THIS CHAPTER WAS SO HARD TO WRITE, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT) and it's not a great chapter but yeah... I hope it'll do until I can update again._

_**Disclaimer:**__ Camp Rock is not mine, because I'd probably have ruined it if it was. Nor do I own this little snippet of James Morrison's song 'You Make It Real' (wow, same title – think there's a connection? Go listen to it!)_

_**Music: **__Chasing Pavements – Adele_

"_**Should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements, even if they lead nowhere?"**_

I was obviously crazy. Here I was, ten o'clock at night, sitting in the studio and trying to get this damn song right. Forget being at home, where I'm sure the others were, and watching TV, relaxing, getting ready to go to bed in order to prepare for the next day. Forget that. I was at the recording studio, sitting with my guitar and getting worked up over not having the lyrics right. The life of Shane Grey nowadays. It was HotTunes worthy stuff, I tell you.

The rest of the studio was dark and had I been a cinematographic person, I'd probably have taken one look at the solitary light bulb that was on above me and laughed at the stage-like appearance of it. But I wasn't. And the dark suited my mood. Dark was always better than light. When you were in the light you could see everything. When you were in the dark... when you were in the dark you could hide things. You could hide away in the dark. And you couldn't fear or miss what you couldn't see.

Strumming the strings once, I listened as they echoed throughout the room. I couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment they stopped – one second I could hear them fading out and the next they were gone – but that was like a lot of things in life. Couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment that things went wrong and changed forever.

Ugh. When the hell did I get so philosophical about things? When did I start analyzing everything and going all deep on life in general? It didn't sound like me at all.

Then again... what did these days?

I looked back down at my guitar, picking out a melody that was all too familiar to me. I'd finished the song. After the hurt died down and I realized that she wasn't coming back, I'd sat down and finished writing the song that had been haunting me since I'd met her. And countless songs on our new album are inspired by her. Like it or not, she's never left me. Not emotionally, anyway. When she'd told me that we had to focus on what was next instead of what could have been... well. I obviously wasn't very good at that. And she obviously was. Because she was God knows where doing God knows what and that was her 'what's next'.

Mine? Mine was sitting in a studio at ten o'clock at night, playing a song. That was (wait for it) about her.

How have Jason and Nate not had me institutionalized yet?

"Kissed her for the first time yesterday... everything I wished that it would be... suddenly I forgot how to speak... hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?" I spoke the words as opposed to singing them, keeping in time with the upbeat tempo I'd worked in.

Nobody had ever heard this song. Not Nate or Jason or Brown or Andy the record guy... it had been my little secret. They'd heard the one I'd sung at the concert (as had the entire world, seeing as it was the last song people heard me perform before we just... left the music scene) and the ones we'd all had a hand in writing (that I hadn't stated were explicitly about her, but the guys aren't stupid) but never the completed version of this song. I played some of it for them on the tourbus the day after I met her and then it had been forgotten. By everyone but me.

Nobody ever would hear this song. It hurt to sing it now. Imagine what it would be like singing it in front of people who would be watching full of sympathy and saying that it was good and then expressing how sorry they were that she went and left. Torture. Pure torture.

"I wouldn't bet that I'll catch that love bug again," I muttered, altering the words that I'd originally had planned. Those ones seemed less appropriate, given the current situation. Me, alone. Mitchie... somewhere else. Having fun. Probably forgotten about me too, like the rest of the world. Shane who?

My phone vibrated from over where it lay on the speakers and my first thought was one of confusion: who would be texting me at ten o'clock at night? Putting down the guitar, I walked over to where it lay, the screen alight, and picked it up.

**Where the hell are you? We've been outside your apartment for about half a hour, waiting for you to get home from wherever you are and Jason and Ella are kind of annoying me now. DON'T TELL THEM I SAID THAT PLEASE!**

My brow furrowed as I read it. Why were they at my apartment? Was I meant to be there? Was this a band meeting or something? Walking over to the piano stool, I tried to remember making plans with them to meet at mine and came up with nothing. The last time we'd arranged a band name was when we were deciding on a name and we'd done that one (Written On Guitar Cases hadn't actually been my idea, but I loved it anyway. We'd had the same old guitar cases since we first started out in the business and when we were having a paper shortage, me and Nate used to scribble random lyrics on the guitar cases. Hence the name...). So what were they doing there? I hit reply, my fingers moving over the touch screen at a slower speed than they usually would.

_At the studio. Got some inspiration. Was there a band meeting that I forgot about? If so... sorry.  
_

Putting my phone on the top of the piano, I lifted the lid that covered the keys when nobody was playing it and exposed the white and black notes and played a C scale. Up and up, more than an octave, two octaves, three...

This feeling was horrible. I wanted to write a song. I could feel the impulse to write a song within my mind but I couldn't actually spur creativity. It was just there to eat away at me until I finally managed to find the words that went with what I wanted to say. It was there to eat away at me until I gave it an ultimatum: if you don't give me some inspiration, brain, I'll make you crazy.

"_Mitchie! If you don't come and talk to me, I'm going to jump!"_

The memory of my last ultimatum hit me suddenly and seemed to jolt my fingers into forming a G chord with my left hand. It rung out through the otherwise silent studio, the sound waves circling me. After that note died, I pressed the D, letting that follow it. A whole sequence of chords was being played by my fingers and I was really only half aware of what I was doing. It sounded good. Really good.

Without taking much in, I began singing, making up lyrics as I went along. Unorthodox method, but some of the best songs could have been written this way. Emotion and spontaneity was the key most of the time; thinking hard about the lyrics and hoping to wring emotion from the listener wouldn't do. If it was raw and spontaneous, then it was more real, right? Or... that's how it felt. That's how it should be. How can you expect other people to feel something if you have to spend hours working out how you feel in the first place?

"_I'll jump_

_Jump from this rooftop_

_Onto your driveway_

_I'll jump_

_Just hear me_

_Just for one minute_

_Lend me your ears and_

_Hear me out..."_

I was vaguely aware of my phone buzzing again, but ignored it. It was only Nate, probably having a go at me through text about being in the studio so late and how it wasn't good for me to be working so hard. He could wait. Inspiration couldn't. Inspiration never waited. If you didn't grab hold of it and use it when it came to you, then you might never get it back. And I'd let too many things slip through my fingers recently.

"_There's nothing else I can possibly lose_

_And there's everything to gain_

_Truth be told, I'm afraid of these heights_

_But I'll be falling anyway_

_I'll jump; aiming for your heart_

_And if I miss or if you push me away_

_At least I'll know where I'm meant to be_

_Lying on your driveway, on that rainy day._"

I faltered and my finger slipped on the key, causing an off note to sound through the room. And with the fading of that off note, my musical impulse died too. But that didn't matter. It was something. And it was a _good _something.

Getting up and grabbing a my pen and paper from where I'd left it near the guitar, I held the page against the wall as I scribbled down the lyrics and the melody sequence while it was fresh in my mind. Then I walked back to the piano, sitting down once again and swapping the pen and paper for my phone.

**You're crazy. Get home. Songs can wait, Shane. We came to hang out, dude. Are you coming home?**

I could tell that he'd thought a lot before he'd texted back. It may not have looked like it, but the immediate reaction from Nate would have probably been a lot more harsh and demanding of me to get out of the studio because it was making me depressed. The shorter sentences and the softer tone meant that he'd thought about it.

They were always thinking about how they said stuff to me. When Mitchie left that was how things became. Like I was damaged and at risk of breaking into a thousand little pieces at any moment.

I sighed and looked around the dark room. He was right, of course. There was no point in staying here when my inspiration had faded and my friends were sitting outside my apartment waiting for me. Staying here wouldn't help.

So I stood up, grabbing my jacket and rushing out a reply to Nate.

_Be there in 10 minutes. Think you can stand being third wheel with Ella and Jason for that much longer?_

Then, I walked over to the door and flicked the switch that turned out the one light bulb that had been illuminating the room for me. Just as the light was swallowed up, I caught a glimpse of the song I'd just started – my scrawling writing imprinting the lyrics into the white page – and sighed again.

I'd have jumped if it came to it, I thought as I shut the door and made my way out of the building. If it had come down to it... I'd have most definitely jumped.


	4. You Could Be Happy

_**Title:**__ You Make It Real_

_**Summary:**__ Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note:**__ To celebrate the fact that I have 5 exams and 3 days of exams left, I figured I'd sit down today and write this for you! For those of you that haven't read my excuses in my new story (Silhouette Dreams, for anyone interested who has yet to read the first few chapters over there!) the reason I haven't updated this in so long is due to my exams and due to my computer dying and me losing EVERYTHING on the hard-drive. I lost my plan for this story and the start I'd made on this chapter, the song that Smitchie-Shipper and I (though I add me in very loosely, she did most of it) had written for Mitchie to sing... I even lost all my AIM conversations that I'd had with Smitchie-Shipper as we planned everything that was going to happen, so it depressed me muchly. I'm in the process of re-writing the entire plan, but this chapter is just to keep people going and to thank everyone for bearing with me! I promise, I'm still writing it! The snippet of the song she sings is mine and I'm sorry this chapter sucks!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ Camp Rock is mine, Camp Rock is mine, Camp Rock is mine... too bad saying things over and over doesn't make them true, huh?_

_**Music: **__You Could Be Happy - Snow Patrol_

"_**You could be happy, I hope you are; you made me happier than I've been by far"**_

"Okay, I probably should have warned you about the hot water in the shower," Caitlin said, as we made our way up the steps of the college.

My first official day as a student at California College of Music and I'd wanted to make a good impression, which had me opting to take a shower and, against all my expectations, getting a hell of a lot of freezing cold water cascading over me.

"It's fine." I reassured her for the sixth time since she'd heard me shriek because of the temperature of the water. Apparently you had to leave it for a few minutes to heat up before you got in, because otherwise it was freezing cold, as I'd found out. Cait had forgotten to tell me. I'm sure you can work out the details.

She pulled open a door and led me into a hallway and I took a moment to try and remember the route she was taking, just in case. I didn't want to get lost and look stupid. "It's not fine. I'm sorry, it slipped my mind! I was so excited about you being back and, okay, you've been here for two days so you'd think I'd have gotten over my excitement and remembered the important things I had to tell you, but it's me. I haven't. I apologize profusely. I'm sorry!"

I laughed, shaking my head at her. "You're a dork. I'm fine! It was some cold water. I managed to get clean, I look okay and everything is dandy."

"Dandy?" She stopped dead and looked at me, an eyebrow raised. "Is that like... slang? In England?"

"Sure, why not?" I shrugged.

"Now, I want you to meet the band I've been writing songs for. They're amazing and I've told them so much about you, so you'll probably get the 'we've heard so much about you' line, I'm warning you now." Caitlin rambled on as she made her way to the classroom that would be where I had my lessons for the summer. "And it's going to be great. You'll love this class, I know it."

I stopped when she did, outside a painfully normal looking classroom door with a lot of noise coming from inside. Singers, people drumming, laughing... for a painfully normal looking classroom door, it certainly didn't sound like a normal class. But then, Caitlin hadn't had me expecting any less. With one last grin in my direction, she pushed open the door and, almost instantly, shouts of "Caitlin" went up around the room from various different people.

"Hey guys!" She grinned, grabbing my hand and bounding over to the corner of the room where a group of five guys were sitting together, smiling at my best friend. "This is Mitchie. Mitchie, it doesn't take two brain cells to work out who these guys are."

"I'm Jack," One of the guys, about my age and wearing a beanie hat stuck out his hand for me to shake and I did so. He then proceeded to name the others sitting with him. "That's Ben, Anto, Danny and Carter."

Smiling at them, I nodded my head, unsure of what else to do. It wasn't that I was _bad _in these sorts of situations, but I just didn't really know what to say to guys who were already so close knit and friendly with each other. And, justifying that to myself, Connect 3 were an anomaly. They weren't really all that close knit thanks to Shane's attitude anyway.

"So, Mitchie, we've heard a lot about you."

Caitlin laughed at how spot-on she'd been in predicting what they'd say.

"I've heard a lot about you guys too," I said, smiling. "Cait never shut up about you. When it wasn't conversation about you and how amazing your band was and how she couldn't wait for me to meet you it was conversation about Nate. I preferred hearing about you guys, I'll admit it."

Rolling her eyes and knocking me in the side with her elbow, Caitlin took a second to pull up two chairs and room was made for us in the circle.

The six of them broke into conversation almost instantly; talking about things that had happened since they'd last all spoken and about upcoming shows. I couldn't really partake, seeing as I'd been around for all of three days, but I could listen. And think.

It probably shouldn't have been the case, but being back in America reminded me more and more of Shane each day. We'd never been to California together and so I'd assumed I was safe. Apparently not. Even obscure things reminded me of him. Like, for example, Caitlin had a necklace that was fashioned from a silver chain and a guitar pick. The guitar pick was the brand of plectrum that Connect 3 used (I have no idea how I even _knew _that, but I did) and thus a connection was born. It wasn't fair.

I knew that coming back here would (in theory) bring me closer to where he was. I liked to think that I'd have heard about it, be it through Perez Hilton or US Weekly or something, if Shane had left America. So it made sense to assume that we were closer than we'd been in three years. I just… didn't think I'd be reminded of him _this _much.

"Mitchie?"

Realizing that someone had been trying to get my attention for a few seconds, I let my attention slip from thinking about Shane to the guy who was waving his hand in front of me. Even Cait was looking at me, a curious expression on her face.

"Sorry," I said, blushing slightly as I avoided Caitlin's gaze. We hadn't actually talked properly about Shane and everything that had happened three years ago (I'd been bracing myself for it, but had managed to change the subject any time it looked like it was going in that direction) but I knew that she was still my best friend and, consequently, could still read me like a book. "What were you saying?"

"Caitlin just said she'd hooked you up with a job at McDonalds." Anto repeated, smiling.

I nodded, tucking my side bangs behind my ear. "Yeah. I asked her if she knew of any jobs I could get, she came at me with that one; I felt obliged to take it. And I'm working from three o'clock until five o'clock, so it's not too bad. I'll still have time to… do stuff in the evenings, I guess."

"If you can find anything to do," Caitlin replied, sticking her tongue out at me before she realized what she'd said. "And wow, I meant… seriously, you might not believe me but I did not mean that in a sexual way at all."

I laughed, sticking my tongue out back. "Sure, Cait. I'll sit home and watch TV. You can go find 'something to do' with Nate."

Caitlin opened her mouth to protest, but Anto cut her off before she could.

"See, I was just going to ask if you would mind dropping some food off for me at the police station when you get off work. I work on the desk there - my dad's one of the detectives - and they don't give me a break. Ever. If you want to go straight home then it's no problem."

I smiled, shaking my head. "No, that's totally fine! I can do that. You're not a vegetarian or anything, right?"

"If he was a vegetarian, would he really be asking for food from McDonalds?" Caitlin asked, nudging me with her elbow and obviously still wanting revenge for my Nate comment.

"Duh, Cait, they have vegetarian options. And, besides, it could be argued that not a lot of meat goes into a McDonalds hamburger."

"Duh, Mitchie, if he was a vegetarian he would have said so when he first asked."

"Duh, Caitlin, maybe he was just getting to that."

"Duh, Mitchie…" She trailed off, eventually heaving a sigh. "I've got nothing."

"Yes!" I punched the air in mock-happiness. "Mitchie: 4, Caitlin: 2."

She rolled her eyes and I noticed the five guys watching us our exchange with amusement.

"I'm just getting back into the swing of things, Michaela. When you've been around for a few more days I'll be winning left, right and center."

Ignoring her and turning back to Anto, I grinned. "So yeah, not a vegetarian, right?"

"No," he said, shaking his head with a laugh. "Bring by what you can; I'll be forever in your debt, whatever it is."

"So, have you guys practiced that song we wrote last week?" Caitlin chipped in, causing the conversation to turn back to something I didn't really know anything about. Glancing out of the window, I couldn't help but smile at the totally clear blue sky. I loved the weather in England sometimes but the prospect of being able to go outside and not have to worry about rain coming along unannounced was kind of exciting. I'd forgotten how awesome that was.

Two people outside the window caught my eye. The one facing me was a girl - she was pretty and had long black hair. Her boyfriend (or, I assumed he was her boyfriend because they were holding hands and looked pretty close) had his back turned so that I couldn't see his face, but she was laughing at something he said.

There was something… well. It would be weird to say familiar, because I could only see the back of his head, but it felt like I knew him. How could I know him?

Keeping what I hoped to be a casual eye on the couple - if they turned around and saw some girl looking at them intently through the window they may be a little weirded out - I willed the guy to turn around so that I could get the nagging feeling out of my head. I probably didn't know him; all of the people I knew in America were on the East coast, generally, so it made no sense that I'd know him. I just needed to see that I didn't.

He leaned down and kissed the girl, pulling away after a few seconds and saying something else that made her laugh. Then, letting go of his hand, she ran out of view of the window and I watched as he waved. Just as I was sure he was about to turn around and leave, the door of the classroom opened and an English accent (wow, and there was I, thinking I'd left all of them back in London) caused me to turn around.

"If the class is a-rockin', I'm glad I came knockin'!" The middle-aged man grinned, standing at the front of the room and clapping his hands together.

I glanced back at the window but, to my disappointment, the guy was gone.

I probably didn't know him.

"Ella! So nice of you to join us!" The man boomed good-naturedly as the girl I'd seen outside scampered into the classroom and took a seat in the opposite corner. His eyes followed her to her seat and then surveyed the classroom, landing on me. For a few seconds, a curious expression crossed his face and I couldn't quite read it, because it was gone almost as soon as it came and he was back to looking around at the rest of his class. "Alright then! Looks like we've got some old and new faces this summer, so let's get started!"

Caitlin caught my eye from where she was sitting next to me. "And so now you've officially met Brown Cesario. Welcome to the California College of Music, Mitchie."

---

Caitlin managed to persuade me to come to band practice on my last day of not working from 3 til 5. Apparently, the band (who were called Great Scott!, after that catchphrase in Back To the Future) practiced from 8 until 10 every day, straight after most of them finished work (which would explain why Anto needed me to bring by food, because he went straight from college, to work, to here. Talk about getting hungry). I had to admit, I was kinda curious as to how they sounded and that was part of the reason why I'd agreed instead of using up my last day of not smelling like McDonalds to catch up on TV or something equally as riveting. But they'd all seemed like really nice guys and Cait was full of praise, so I wanted to check it out.

So, sitting in a beach chair in the garage that was full of amplifiers, instruments and empty candy bar wrappers, I was getting my first taster of an amateur band. And it was pretty good. I'd been spoiled, seeing Connect 3 perform such polished shows. I'd seen how the famous ones put on a show and now I was going backwards and seeing how the non-professional musicians did things.

Finishing up an acoustic song, Jack put down his guitar and looked over at me, awaiting my opinion as they'd done in every song previously. Because they'd written the songs with Caitlin, I was the first judge that could be unbiased, apparently. Although, seeing as I was best friends with Cait, I may have been a little swayed.

"It was really good. I loved the melody line that you picked on the guitar," I said, nodding. "It wasn't too simple, but it wasn't something that people listened to and thought 'show off'. It was really good."

My words being met with six grins, I ran a hand through my hair and looked over at Caitlin who was in her element as she talked quickly through what the next song should sound like.

She loved this. Honestly, every time I had spoken to her on the phone she mentioned these guys and how brilliant they were. And, from what I was seeing, they thought the same about her.

We'd both always loved music; heck, it was how we even ended up at the Connect 3 concert in the first place. She'd always wanted to be a producer - the stage was too upfront for her, whereas (as she put it) behind the scenes was 'where the magic happened'. I was just glad that it had worked out for her.

It was funny. People that I'd known my whole life seemed to have changed a lot. Caitlin was, for want of a better word, more mature; not in the sexual innuendos and squealing unnecessarily sense of things, but when it came to doing what she loved and being aware of her surroundings.

Had Shane changed? I wondered it every day; whether the boy (or, technically, man) I'd _loved _had changed at all. And, if he had, whether it was for the worse or for the better. Had I done the right thing in leaving him? Or had I done something unforgivable and made him resent himself?

"Mitchie is an amazing songwriter, no lie. Her lyrics are amazing. She used to write them all the time - still does, I think."

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard my name, and I snapped back to reality to find everyone looking at me again. Wow. Second time today that I forgot where I was and got immersed in thoughts of Shane.

"Really?" One of the other guys - I think it was Ben - said, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, no," I said, shaking my head. They weren't really all that good. "They aren't really -"

Caitlin scoffed, interrupting without a care. "Please, Mitchie. You were - and are - amazing. I mean, you never really explicitly showed me the lyrics to some of them, but the ones I saw were really, really good. Like that one you wrote about Sha -"

Taking my turn to cut her off, I stopped her before she could say his name. "They weren't anything special, Cait."

"Well, why don't you let them be the judge of that?" She challenged me, her hands on her hips. She'd noticed what I'd done; interrupting her before she could say Shane's name and this was my punishment. This and a long conversation about him tonight, I'll bet.

I looked around at the five faces of the band - the guys I'd never met before today but were not asking me to bare my soul in front of them with a song. Not… that they knew that. But, basically, they were asking me to sing something. One of my own songs. I hadn't done that to anyone but Shane before. Ever.

Sighing, I stood up and motioned to the piano, where Carter was sitting. "Fine. I'll play one. But that's it."

He got up and allowed me to sit on the stool and, for a few seconds, I just looked at the keys. All of my lyrics had momentarily wiped themselves from my brain at the prospect of being shared with people and I had to find them again. Because, even though it hadn't been my idea, I had an audience.

Without thinking, I lifted my hands and let my fingers settle on familiar keys, before letting the music take over. Just don't think about them. Don't think about anything. Music.

"_You always thought that no one knew_

_The person locked away inside your soul_

_But baby, that was never true_

_Just needed someone to make it whole_

_And there was I, naive and unsuspecting_

_Of what would happen when I answered that question_

_Who could have known, we'd get that far in seconds?_

_We took the chance when opportunity beckoned_

_I'm_

_The Paparazzi-Put-Down-Princess_

_You_

_Are my favorite Pop Star_

_I guess I'm_

_The one and only Roof Girl_

_And you'll always be_

_My voice in the dark."_

Stopping abruptly, my mind processed the song that I'd subconsciously started playing. The only song that hadn't wiped itself from my mind when presented with the thought of playing them aloud to people had been the one that only he (and possibly Nate and Jason…) would get. Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

I stood up quickly, trying to avoid the gazes from the other six. Five of them, I assumed, would have no idea what the song was about. One… well, I was sure that the talk about Shane that had been looming over me for days was almost inevitably going to be occurring that night.

"That was… that was really good, Mitchie!" One of the band members - I couldn't tell which one without looking in that direction and if I looked in that direction then I'd probably get an eyeful of glaring from Caitlin for not daring to tell her about that song.

I smiled weakly and walked over to my bag, picking it up and trying to stop myself from crying. Who was I kidding? I wasn't over him. I'd gone to London of my own accord and I couldn't stop thinking about him even three freakin' years later. "Thanks. Um… I just remembered, I have to go, uh, get… something. Call my mom, too. But it's been fun You guys are really good."

Chancing a look over at Caitlin, I watched her face fall into an expression of sympathy as she realized why I was rushing away. She took a step towards me, indicating that she'd come too, but I shook my head and took my own step back. "It's fine; I know my way back. I'll walk. You finish up here."

"You sure?" She asked, her face full of concern.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm totally sure. Keep working. You all sound amazing. I'll see you back at the apartment."

The guys - who were looking bemused about the whole thing - nodded in goodbye and, before Caitlin could ask if I was sure again, I turned and walked out of the door and into the LA night.

It was summer so it wasn't cold, and it wasn't too dark. Everything was just silhouetted in the fading light and I probably had enough time to walk home before the pitch black settled in. Plus, there were no popstars around to insist on me staying because it was too late to walk home in the dark. That was in another life, almost.

Shane.

I sighed, folding my arms across my chest as I tried to work out what, exactly, I still felt for Shane. I had no clue. I didn't know if I was over him or not. I thought about him constantly. Always wondered what would have happened if I hadn't left. I might have told him to focus on what happened next, but I didn't take my own advice.

The truth was that, even though I'd instigated the separation and been the one to prevent the relationship that we'd both wanted from happening, that wasn't what I'd wanted at all. I'd learnt a lot in London, but _what if? What if _I'd stayed here? _What if _I'd been Mitchie Torres: Shane Grey's girlfriend? _What if_ that was how my life was _supposed _to be and now I'd lost my chance at that?

It wasn't that I wasn't happy. I had friends and was studying music and was having fun in California with Caitlin. I'd just spent three years living in London and seeing Europe and taking in things that some people never got to see. I wasn't _unhappy_ as such. I just...

I wanted Shane. I still wanted Shane. But, and I'd be willing to bet anything on this, he probably still didn't want me. He'd probably moved on, just like the rest of Connect 3. Their fans grew up and so did they. I bet Shane had a family and a picket fence and was _happy _with how things turned out.

At least… I hoped he was happy with how things turned out. One of us had to be, I guess.


	5. I Am In Repair

_**Title:**__ You Make It Real_

_**Summary:**__ Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s:**__ Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note:**__ So, it was a toss-up between sitting down and writing a chapter for this story and sitting down and writing a chapter for my new Sonny With A Chance story. I have inspiration for both, but I can only write one chapter at a time (obviously) and, seeing as I updated this one the longest ago, this one it was. Thank you if you're still reading - you reviewers know how much you rock, I won't waste too much time reiterating it continuously - and I hope this chapter answers some questions that people had (namely: is it going to start moving faster now?). Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer:**__ See previous chapters, because I'm getting bored trying to come up with witty disclaimers._

_**Music: **__In Repair - John Mayer_

"_**If I take my heart's advice, I should assume it's still unsteady. I am in repair, I am in repair"**_

It was darkening. Usually it was still pretty light in LA in summer, even at 10pm, but it was getting dark tonight. I liked LA in the dark. Even though I lived in the almost suburbs on the outskirts, I could still sit and watch the city turn its lights on. The sky around it got darker, the windows and streetlights lit it up again. And, from where I was sitting, I had a perfect view of all of this going on.

Letting my fingers fall into the chords that I'd been attempting to nail all day, I practiced the riff once more. It had been driving the three of us crazy in the studio, to the point where Nate had decreed that we weren't going to get anything else done because we were all so agitated and that trying again in the morning would probably be the best solution. I hadn't put up an argument. Going home, while it meant that I'd be spending another night doing nothing, meant that I had the freedom to do what I was currently doing: sitting on my roof, playing guitar and watching the city of angels light up.

It wasn't going right. I moved my fingers back to the top of the fretboard, starting the riff anew and beginning to sing the lyrics that corresponded.

"_Maybe someday you'll be here with me, _

_Instead of giving someone else what I need,_

_And maybe one day I'll find what I lost, _

_Instead of doing nothing but kicking up dust, _

_And maybe some day it'll all become clear,_

_Clues will be unravelled and I'll have you my dear,_

_But until every maybe becomes reality,_

_To say I miss you is the understatement of the century."_

Slipping up again, I swore aloud, strumming the guitar ferociously in frustration. Fuck. Why the hell couldn't I get this riff? It was complicated, sure, and I was almost positive that I could have substituted some of the picking for something a lot easier, but I didn't want that. That wasn't the point. Taking the easy way out when writing a song didn't work; the song never felt fully complete and it would bug you forevermore. We'd left the record label that we'd been signed to previously because they didn't let us take on the complicated things. I had to nail this.

I took a deep breath and slid my fingers from the guitar, flexing them a few times to give them a break. When I glanced at my watch, I deduced that I'd probably been playing on the roof for two hours, at least, and still couldn't think of anything better to do with my evening.

Nate was probably off texting Caitlin and Jason was probably either in Ella's presence or having an extremely long phone conversation with her. I'd be willing to bet everything I owned that neither of them are sitting on the roof, trying to get a song exactly right. A song that I wasn't even sure we should put on the album anyway.

I'd never felt like this. I _knew _the songs we had were good. They were. They were better than the cookie-cutter pop stuff we'd been manufactured to make three years ago. But there was still the nagging question of how they'd be received in the back of my mind. Would people remember us? Would people pass us off as trying to be better than we were? Would it be perceived as a comeback that we were contractually obliged to fulfill? I didn't want to be seen as just another band who were trying to become serious. That would suck.

And, above all, I didn't want people to hear these songs and connect them instantly to Mitchie. I'd been warned it would most probably happen; it took a while for the media to stop questioning her disappearance and stop speculating that Connect 3 happened to fall off the face of the Earth at the same time. It wouldn't take a genius to work it out. But it just so happened that the best songs we'd written were, as many a songwriter will tell you, the ones that came from the heart; that came from the emotions that Mitchie left me with and spurred me to put pen to paper and fingers to piano keys.

That didn't make her the bad guy. In fact, no song on the album depicted her as the bad guy; just stated that I missed her and still loved her and would do anything to have her back. But I knew too well what crazy fan girls were like and when they started their bashing on the internet, I doubted Mitch would even be safe from rumors on the other side of the world, let alone London.

Groaning aloud at my own thoughts (hey, nobody could hear me on my roof), I put my fingers back on the guitar and picked the all-familiar melody. It always came back to this. Whenever I was at a loss of what to play, or stuck in a musical rut or just bored in general, my fingers always found themselves playing one song in particular. Her song.

"Kissed her for the first time yesterday... everything I wished that it would be... suddenly I forgot how to speak... hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?" I sung quietly, under my breath.

Yeah, it still hurt. No, I still wasn't going to let anyone in on it's existence. But that didn't stop it being the first song in my head every morning and the last song every night.

"I never thought that I'd get hit by this love bug again…"

I sighed and pulled the guitar strap over my head, resting the instrument next to me and watching it for a few seconds to ensure it wasn't in danger of toppling over. I needed to stop this. It wasn't healthy. Three freakin' years.

Glancing back down at the street, I tried to stop my thoughts wandering to Mitchie, but it was near impossible. I was, after all, near enough recreating the scene where we first met by sitting on the roof and singing. It was hard not to think about her in this situation. Just like it was hard not to think about her when I saw a member of the paparazzi, or when I ate in a diner or when I went to visit my parents…

I'd only known her for three weeks and yet, it was like she'd impacted my life everywhere. Impacted my life so much so, that it was like her fingerprints were left over everything, including my heart.

I groaned again, putting my head in my hands and screwing my eyes shut to try and block out the thoughts. Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, in that position, but I looked up when I heard footsteps signaling that someone was walking down my street at 10 o'clock at night. I don't know _why _this was unusual (I have no idea why my neighbors don't go out late; it's weird) but it was and so, I watched until the person came into view, walking past my next door neighbor's house, humming.

Well… I assume it was them humming. Seeing as, you know, they are the only one on the street.

I picked out a few words, craning my neck to try and hear exactly what she (I'd figured out it was a female; I can't say girl or woman, seeing as she's pretty silhouetted and guessing her age is almost impossible in the dark) was singing. "… only causes pain… insane… mean the world to me…"

Why do those lyrics sound so familiar? Even… in their pretty jumbled up state, they sound like I've heard them before. And not in a 'hit-song-that-Ryan-Seacrest-plays-constantly' way, either.

Before I could even think about what I was doing, I'd called out: "Hey! That sounds pretty good!"

She stopped, just in front of my house and looked around, trying to find the source of the (to her) disembodied voice. I watched as she moved her head to scan the surrounding streets and could just about see her confused stance in the darkening light. I couldn't really see her face though. And, for some reason, I wanted to see her face.

"I'm on the roof," I said again, after a few seconds. "Just so, you know, you don't think there's some sort of monster living in the cracks in the sidewalks around here."

She turned her body fully to my house, looking up at the roof and, although I couldn't fully make out her facial features, I could tell that she was smiling. Whoa. Major sense of deja vu, right here.

"Thanks, I guess?" Her voice was hesitant, and I watched as her shoulders shrugged. "I wasn't aware I was playing to an audience, otherwise I might've tried harder."

I laughed. "What can I say? I like watching the world go by from up here and, until you came along singing, it was incredibly boring."

"This is LA," she stated, matter-of-factly. "I would have thought it was never boring."

"You'd be more than surprised," I replied. "To those of us not interested in being Hollywood's Hottest, it's not the most interesting of places. Especially not when you have nothing else to do one night and have to resort to sitting, playing guitar on your roof."

There were two things I noticed about this conversation. One, was that it wasn't forced in the slightest. I don't know _why _I kept talking, but the point was that I did and wasn't stuck for anything to say. I wouldn't say it was like we'd known each other forever, because we'd said all of about six sentences to one another and that isn't how it works (unless, of course, you're Mitchie Torres), but it felt like I was having a conversation with a new friend, at least. And two, was that there was this nagging feeling, telling me that this was more than just deja vu. But I didn't understand that; how _could _this _possibly _be more than a huge coincidence? I was sitting on a roof, having a conversation with a stranger, just like I'd done three years previously. I was sitting on a roof having a surprisingly _easy _conversation with a stranger, just like I'd done previously.

"You have a guitar up there? Seriously?" She asked, her amusement evident in her tone of voice. "That's… kind of odd."

I shrugged. "Probably. But it's a good place to come and think, especially when you're trying to write a song and have gotten a complete musical block on everything. Or, in my case, trying to nail a song so that when I'm back in the studio tomorrow, I don't feel like killing my band mates."

"Ooh. No killing of band mates, please. You may be depriving us of the next big thing in music."

There was something about her voice…

"Sadly, I don't think that's the term you'd use to describe our band if you knew the whole story."

"Well, I thought you didn't want to be one of Hollywood's Hottest." She said, coolly. "Being in a band sounds a lot cooler."

I shrugged again. "Sometimes it's hard to differentiate between being in a band that people know and being one of Hollywood's Hottest. But no, I don't want to be the next Justin Timberlake."

She laughed - a laugh that was eerily similar to a laugh that I had pretty much embedded in my brain - and I leaned forward a little bit more, trying to catch a glimpse of her face. It couldn't be. I _knew _it couldn't be. But this had happened to me on many an occasion before - I'd thought I'd seen her smile in Starbucks and chased the poor girl out into the street, only to find out that it definitely wasn't and there had been that incident in the movie theater where I'd been with Nate and I'd attempted to casually walk by a group of girls because I thought I'd heard her talking and ended up bumping into a couple who had two jumbo sodas in their arms (that hadn't ended prettily) - and I was pretty much used to it now. It was never her. Just my mind, playing tricks on me.

"Damn, and I was just thinking we needed another Justin around to make life interesting."

"I'm ever so sorry to disappoint." I retorted, a smile spreading across my face.

She hesitated, as though wondering whether she should ask something and I instantly toyed with the idea that maybe she was feeling this too. And, if she did feel like this, then maybe…

Dismissing it straight away, I heard her take a breath, telling me she was going to speak. It wasn't her. This had happened too many times before. I saw her face, read her name, heard her laugh… and it was never her. This would be no different.

"So, would I have heard of your band?"

I paused, unsure of whether to admit to being the amazing Connect 3 or not. Even if it wasn't her - which it wasn't, I was 99.9% sure - we'd done pretty well at keeping the comeback CD a secret and telling some complete stranger who I was, probably wouldn't ensure it was kept that way. And, technically, if I told her the new band name, then she wouldn't have heard of us and I wouldn't be lying. She wouldn't have.

But still, I didn't like the idea of lying unnecessarily. She'd asked. I didn't want to lie to her.

"Depends on a few things," I said, eventually, settling for a cryptic answer. Sure, she'd probably enquire further, but I could wing my way out of that too. If she walked away knowing who I was, I'd have at least prolonged the finding out process.

"Like…" Leaving the sentence open, I could tell that I was expected to finish it.

"Like… how old you are. And what music you're into. And what you've been doing the past couple of years." I finished for her, sitting a little further forwards. It was getting darker and, as a result, getting even harder to make out her expressions and even how she was standing. She was just a black figure, standing in front of me.

It was her turn to pause, and I took the opportunity to look over at the main city. Completely lit up. Just as I'd been expecting when I first came and sat outside. Illuminated and really pretty. Inside that city there'd be a few hundred parties going on, paparazzi taking photographs of every celebrity who dared set foot outside their million dollar homes, scandals being carried out and gossip being passed from ear to ear. And here I was, on the outskirts of it all.

"I've be out of the country for a couple of years, so I guess there's a possibility I've missed a lot…"

My heart stopped for a fraction of a second and my head snapped back to the dark figure standing in my driveway.

What?

Wait.

_What?_

Trying to keep my cool and not just blurt out her name - that would make me look like an idiot if it wasn't her - I took a few deep breaths and tried to sound nonchalant as I formed a reply in my head. "Oh? And whe -"

I was cut off by the sound of my phone ringing from in the house. All of the windows were open, making it a noise that could be heard, even from where she was standing.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

Crap. Why did it have to go and ring?

It had to go and ring because it's not her. It had to go and ring because this is what _always _happens. Wake up call. Alarm clock. End of the dream.

"I'll let you get that…" she said, gesturing to the phone. "Or call them back or whatever."

I nodded, standing up - a potentially dangerous move, but I'd already been through the worst that could happen when I was trying to win Mitchie back, so it wouldn't be too bad. "Yeah. I probably should…"

"It's been nice talking to you," she said, and I could tell that she was smiling again.

"Likewise. And keep singing. It's good, I swear."

She laughed - ugh, that familiar laugh again; why was God being so cruel and playing tricks on me? - and replied similarly: "I will. Don't get sucked in to being one of Hollywood's Hottest. One Justin is more than enough."

And, with that, she carried on walking down the street, a little more spring in her step than before. I watched until she disappeared from view and then went indoors, standing for a few seconds before even thinking about picking up the phone.

That was too weird. And there were a lot of similarities. And I couldn't get rid of that… feeling. That it was fate or I'd done that before.

Shaking my head, I grabbed the phone and, seeing Nate's number on the 'missed calls' list, began to redial his number.

It wasn't her. My mind was playing tricks again. Mitchie was in London. All the way over the ocean.

It wasn't her.


	6. Missed Out On Each Other

_**Title: **__You Make It Real_

_**Summary: **__Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note: **__I'm sorry this is so short, you guys! I wanted to get this up today and I've just been called to help with dinner, so I'm ending it at a convenient point. I'm not sure what else I'd have added to the end of this chapter anyway, so it's probably a good thing I stopped when I did. Anyway, I hope you guys like it! 200 reviews by the time the next chapter is up, maybe? That would be kinda awesome. But, uh, not to give too much away but I think you guys might like what I have planned so far for the next chapter. It involves McDonalds, a return of the old Shane and a whole lot of clueless Nate. :D  
_

_**Disclaimer: **__See previous chapters, because I'm getting bored coming up with witty disclaimers._

_**Music: **__Realize - Colbie Caillat_

"_**If you just realize what I just realized, we'd never have to wonder if we missed out on each other now"**_

Caitlin was back within half an hour of me unlocking the dorm room door and so, seeing as I'd stopped for about 10 minutes to have a conversation with some random (I say random but, I don't know, there was just this nagging feeling of familiarity about him that I can't explain) guy who was playing guitar on the roof, I guesstimated that she'd have definitely stuck around to help the guys with at least a few more songs. Good. I hadn't ruined their entire practice.

I'd been sitting, thinking about the short conversation I'd had with a man on a roof and letting the irony wash over me. There were so many similarities in that meeting to the way that Shane and I had first met; the roof, the silhouettes, the banter about nothing in particular but that was more reminiscent of the way that two old friends would converse than how two people who have just met usually have a conversation. In fact, if there hadn't been a whole hoard of differences, I might've…

But it couldn't have been. One: Shane lives on the East Coast. Not California. Two: the way he spoke about his band gave the impression they'd just started. And everyone knew about Connect 3, whether they'd been out of the country for a while or not.

Or… they used to.

Caitlin's entrance put an end to my thoughts about the mysterious stranger on the roof, however, and brought them right back to the band practice. Right back to what I'd done at the band practice. And, consequently, right back to Shane Grey. Because he was linked with everything I did, it seemed. I couldn't seem to escape.

"Mitchie," she said, smiling as she shut the door behind her. "I'm glad you're alright. I mean, I was sure you'd have gotten back before it got pitch black but still, I couldn't focus knowing that you were walking home on your own."

I forced a smile in her direction, pushing my hair out of my face. "Come on Cait, I'm not a little girl anymore. Being twenty-one means I'm more than capable of walking home on my own."

"It was more that you were walking home after baring your soul to four guys you've never met before. I'll overlook the fact that your best friend was also in the room, because, I'll admit, I was torn between being mad that I hadn't been informed of the fact that you were still pining over a certain Connect 3 band member and actually feeling sympathy because I had no idea you were still pining over a certain Connect 3 band member." She said, throwing her bag on her bed, walking over and sitting beside me on my bed, leaning her back against the headboard like I was.

I rotated my head, looking at my best friend and sighing. "I am not _pining._"

Caitlin laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head lightly at me. "Mitchie, you might not be willing to admit it, but I can read you like I can read music and, however deep down it may be, you've never gotten over him. Never. It wasn't as evident on the phone and, I'll be honest, I figured that because you dodged all conversation of him that you were over it. But after that song? After the look on your face as you sung that song? After the look on your face when you realized you'd sung that song? Seriously, Mitchie, anybody would be able to tell that you're still in love with him."

I shook my head, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm not. I can't be. It's… it's stupid."

"God, Mitchie, how long did it take me to get you to admit you were in love with him the first time around? Can we not be forced to endure a repeat of that, please?"

"That wasn't… this isn't… it's not the same, Cait. I'm not in love with him. I haven't seen him for three years; I can't be in love with him. That's not how it works. It can't work that way."

My best friend sighed, extending her legs in front of her and I stared at her Converse-clad feet. I don't know how long exactly we sat like that, but it didn't really matter. We were both thinking about the happenings of three years ago, that was obvious.

"It can work that way, Mitchie," she said, breaking the silence at long last. "It obviously can and it obviously has. For both of you, because from what Nate tells me, he hasn't had an inkling of a girlfriend since you left. It might be cliche and fairytale-esque, but sometimes it's possible to, you know, not fall out of love with someone. Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

I curled my legs up, clasping my knees to my chest. "Life isn't a fairytale, Cait."

Caitlin laughed, nudging me with her elbow. "Mitchie, I have no idea how you can say that. _Especially _when you met Shane Grey, fell in love with him, had him fall in love with you and you did it all looking fabulous. It might not be a fairytale to Cinderella standards, but it's not half bad."

Tilting my head back, I hit it lightly on the wood of the headboard, closing my eyes. "I went to London, Cait. I went to London and I thought that it was my opportunity to find out who I was. He'd discovered who he was through meeting me and I thought I'd discover who I was by taking a breather and being away. You know, taking a chance and seeing what fate had in store for me? And so a year passed and then two years passed and three years and I was just… waiting for myself to stop missing him. I thought it would get easier but every day I wrote a new song and saw something that reminded me of him and it didn't. It just didn't get easier. I tried so freakin' hard to forget, because I was sure that we'd never see each other again. But I couldn't help myself from looking over my shoulder wherever I went and expecting to see him there, ready to catch me like he had been when I fell off my roof. And, even though it was my fault that we weren't together, I couldn't help but feel immensely sad that he wasn't there. I last saw him three years ago and I broke his heart. I needed to be ready for the sort of relationship that he needed - someone who was able to deal with the rumors and scrutiny and everything that came with dating a celebrity - and I thought that going to London for a few years would give me time to get ready for that. But we lost touch and now… I'm never gonna see him again. There is _no point _in me _pining _over a guy that has probably moved on."

"Who says he has moved on?"

"I _want _him to have. There's a part of me that doesn't want him to have but as soon as I even _think _that, I feel so guilty. I hurt him, Caitlin, and I know I hurt him. I don't want him to have spent three years alone and still hurting. It might hurt me to think about him being in love with someone else, but at least if he is in love with someone else it means that he's not hurting. It means that I'm not still hurting him."

I looked over to my best friend and found her looking back at me, her sympathetic gaze intent and boring into me. "You can keep saying those words to yourself, Mitchie, but it doesn't work like that. When you're that in love with someone - because even after knowing him for such a short period of time, nobody can deny that you guys didn't have an impact on each other similar to being in love - it doesn't just go away."

"Not overnight. But eventually. I can wait."

Caitlin sighed, tilting her head so that her curly hair tickled my cheek. "What if you don't have to wait? Look, Nate knows you're here."

I sat upright, looking at her wide-eyed. "What? Why?"

"Because he's his best friend, Mitchie. And while I don't know where they are and what they're doing - Nate's been very secretive when it comes to that - I know that he'll do what's best. If he's still pining over you, like you are over him, Nate can tell him where you are and, wham, happy ending. And if he has moved on, Nate can keep it to himself. It made sense to tell him," she said, shrugging lightly.

I pushed myself off the bed and stood at the end of it, folding my arms as I looked down at her. "That's not…

"That's not what, Mitchie?" She interrupted, scooting forwards so that she was closer to me. We still weren't eye to eye, but she didn't want that. She wanted me to understand. "That's not what you want? That's not how it was supposed to be? You're my best friend and you know what? I hate seeing you like this. You did the right thing when you left for London. You really did. But that was three years ago. This is now. Everything you talked into yourself when you left can now be reversed and you don't have to keep denying what you still feel or pretending you're okay."

Opening and closing my mouth a few times, I racked my brains for some sort of response that would make her see that I was doing the right thing. But there was nothing. Because, and I'll admit I didn't usually agree with Caitlin so easily, she might have been right.

The silence had spread between us for too long and so, pulling me back down to sit opposite her, she asked a question: "Let me ask you this: presented with the opportunity, would you be with him again?"

The answer was evident to me as soon as she'd said the words.

Of course I would. Given the opportunity I'd do my damn hardest to undo everything I might have done in the past 3 years to his heart and start afresh. Of course I'd want us to be together, finally. Yes. Yes, I would.

I nodded, looking down at the duvet under me. "Yeah."

"Then… let me tell Nate that. I'll call him tonight. You can talk to him if you want."

Sighing, I nodded again. "Yeah, alright. Do whatever. I just -"

My best friend grinned at me, pulling me closer for a hug. "You still love him, Mitchie. That song was proof of that. And I just want you to be happy, you know? Plus it gives..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"It gives you an excuse to talk to Nate, huh?" I laughed, rolling my eyes. "I read you like I read music, Caitlin, and I see your eyes light up at the mere mention of him. Don't even try -"

"- to deny it, I know," she said, rolling her eyes with me. "We're back to finishing our own sentences and you're still using it against me."

"Come on, Caitlin; I just poured my heart out about Shane. The least you can do is admit that there's a possibility you may like Nate Williams as more than a friend, like you keep insisting."

She looked at me sheepishly, her face blushing slightly. "Well, I suppose there's a possibility…"

"I so called it," I said, with a grin. "I called it on my eighteenth birthday. Well, if I'm being honest, I had an inkling when they first invited me on tour and you two were making googly eyes across my kitchen, but I actually called it on my eighteenth birthday."

Standing up, she went over to her own bed and took her cell phone from the bag she'd thrown onto her bed before our heart-to-heart. "Shut up, Mitchie."

"It was only a matter of time before you fell for the Connect 3 charm, Caitlin. Only a matter of time."

"Shut up, Mitchie."

"Talking about politics, my ass. I _knew _it!"

"I hate you." She said, scanning through the numbers in her contact list. Even Caitlin couldn't keep the smile from her face, though. "I really, really hate you."

I just laughed, watching as she lifted the phone to her ear and absent-mindedly twirled a strand of hair around her finger. I was happy for her. Really. And even though I wasn't sure that telling Nate to allow Shane back into my life was the right thing to do (was it selfish? If he'd just gotten over me, who was I to throw him back into that turmoil?) this phone call was going to be amazing to watch. Just because I could tell she was falling for him. And I could remember all too well what that felt like.

It was amazing. And Cait deserved that amazing.


	7. How Can I Move On?

_**Title: **__You Make It Real_

_**Summary: **__Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note: **__Ahh, I'm so sorry. I got a job and results day is tomorrow and summer has really made writing almost impossible because I've been so busy. But I wanted to give you guys SOMETHING new, even if it's another short one and kind of rushed (in my opinion) and the ending will make you hate me. Cookies for anyone who can guess what's going to happen? Or, I don't know, a cameo role somewhere, maybe. I'm feeling generous. Whatever. Anyway, I'm so psyched I'm at 212 reviews already, so I really can't complain at any of you guys. Sure, I get a lot of story alerts and favourites without reviews to go along with them, but just knowing you guys like it is what makes me smile and makes updating the main priority, haha. Enjoy this, anyway, and I'll try and get another one in before I go back to school! I'm so sorry I suck with this story - it took me 2 months to write Believe In Me and it's already taken me 8 months to write a mere 7 chapters of this one. Ugh, I'm the worst. I promise, I'll try and be better!_

_**Disclaimer: **__See previous chapters, because I'm getting bored coming up with witty disclaimers._

_**Music: **__The Man Who Can't Be Moved - The Script  
_

"_**I know it makes no sense but what else can I do? How can I move on when I'm still in love with you?"**_

Nate had woken me up at some ungodly hour the next morning, asking why I hadn't picked up the phone when he'd called for the _second _time the night before. After I'd had my random encounter with someone who was still eerily familiar, I called him back, made arrangements to meet them both (them both being Jason and Nate) at the studio at about lunchtime the next day and then decided to call it a night. Apparently being out of the rock'n'roll circuit for a couple years made me a lightweight when it came to my sleeping habits.

Anyway, I'd apparently done the wrong thing in doing that because - at 6:30AM, might I add? - my best friend was calling _again _and asking why I hadn't answered my phone when I'd been dead to the world.

I'm not even all that ashamed to admit that I hung up on him. Puh-lease. I wasn't being hassled by Nate at 6 in the morning for not answering my phone when I'd been sleeping. I don't care if it's rude to hang up; it's rude to _wake_ someone up too. Jeez, if it was that urgent then he'd have come over. He didn't. Therefore, I decided it wasn't as important as he was making it out to be.

Seeing as he'd disturbed my sleep and there was no way I was going to fall back into dreaming (and, no, I _wasn't _dreaming about a certain girl that I used to know, no matter what Nate and Jason insist, because you can't dwell on dreams that will probably never come true) I got up, showered and was in the studio, sitting at the piano and waiting for them to get there a full half-hour before we'd arranged. And I knew, as soon as Nate opened the door and saw me already there, that it was a pretty insane sight; I was usually _never _early.

"You're here? Already?" Jason asked, stepping in behind Nate and raising his eyebrows so far that they disappeared under his curly hair. He'd stopped straightening it a while back… but then, we all had. Apart from Nate, who had never really started.

I nodded. "Obviously. I got woken up early, so everything that I'd have had to do if I woke up at a normal time was done earlier."

As Jason figured out exactly what I'd just said - I could see him mouthing the sentence as he tried to work it out - Nate frowned at me, folding his arms as he walked through the mixing area and into the recording booth.

"You hung up on me."

"Yep. Yes, I did. Come on, Nate, it was some ridiculous hour and after you'd ranted for about ten minutes about how 'the reason I had a phone was to answer it and blahblahblah', I figured that nothing you had to say was _too _urgent."

Sitting down on the stool opposite and picking up his Les Paul guitar, he picked a few strings before looking up and making eye contact with me again. "Caitlin called me last night."

I rolled my eyes, attempting to mask the grin that was spreading over my face at the very thought of Nate and Caitlin. They were definitely one of those annoying couples that should have been together forever ago. Not that I can talk, I'm sure. Three years ago, I was one half of a couple like that. But look what happened when we waited too long! "Did you finally man up and tell her how you feel?"

He wrinkled his nose, scoffing as though I had no idea what I was talking about. Oh, he knew what I was talking about. "How I feel? What are - "

"Don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"I'm not pretending!"

I shook my head at him, laughing lightly. "Don't play dumb, Nate. It doesn't suit you."

"I'm not playing!" He exclaimed, pausing as he realized what he'd just said. "I mean… I really don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't. Sure." I said, looking over at Jason, who didn't even seem to be batting an eyelid at this exchange. Then again, knowing Jason, he probably didn't know what I meant either. He probably hadn't even worked out what I'd said a few minutes earlier.

Rolling his eyes, Nate looked like he was about to retaliate, but decided against it. "Whatever, Shane. I'm not playing this game. Caitlin called last night and she said that she wanted to speak to - "

"Guys!" Andy's voice rang out through the studio, and I turned to see him flinging open the door and beaming at us. "Is today the day? Are we getting it finished today? By the time we leave this recording studio at the end of the day, will we have a hit record done and dusted?"

The time for talking was evidently over, there was no doubt about that. It was music time; time to sit down at the piano and record some amazing stuff. That _was_ what we were here for, after all.

"I'll talk you through your conversation with Caitlin later, Nate," I said, turning my body back to the piano. "We can unpick everything she said and try and extract hidden meaning from her words, if you want. I'm sure there's a website somewhere: aguidetowhatgirlsmeanforguyswhohaventgotaclue dot com. And _then_ we'll go back to yours and watch some chick flicks and get in touch with our feminine sides."

"Shane, I really think - "

"Can we get Turn Right first?" Andy said, using the intercom this time so that his voice was even louder than before. "Because - and my opinion might not count for much here - it's definitely one of my favorites out of your new stuff and I don't think the recording we have does it justice."

"Hey, that actually sounds pretty fun!" Jason looked at us, excitedly. I think he was talking about the chick flicks thing, seeing as we've been recording for about four weeks now and Jason is the master of the delayed reaction.

"I think you might want to hear - " Nate started again, after a momentary look of disbelief in Jason's direction, but was cut off by our producer once more.

"Nate, Shane, Jason. I appreciate that you guys are the artists, but I'm beginning to get worried. We have this studio booked out for two more weeks. Two weeks. We steamed through the first seven songs in two weeks. The next four took longer. We only need one more song, but with re-recordings of some of the tracks on the cards… we need to use the time. I do not want to be trying to cram everything into the last day. Now. Turn Right, please? I'll record the singing first."

I nodded, looking away from Nate. He actually sounded like he needed to tell me something. God, he wasn't very good at being quick with news, was he? If it was really important, he should've just come right out with it when he walked in. That's generally what people do when they have urgent news.

Hearing Nate sigh behind me, I saw Jason walk over and pick up a guitar out of the corner of my eye and decided that I could wait. Whatever it was that Nate had to tell me, could wait a couple hours, right?

---

Three hours later we were just wrapping up the re-recording of three songs and I was getting pretty damn hungry. After being so early and, as a result, not eating lunch at the time I usually ate lunch at, I was starving and even getting immersed in music couldn't totally distract me from the growling my stomach was doing. Seriously, it was like it had a mind of it's own.

As soon as Andy announced that Black Keys was sounding "out of this world", I jumped up and grabbed my jacket, sliding it over my shoulders. "My stomach is going to start eating itself, which is definitely not a good thing. McDonalds run, anyone? I'm taking orders."

"Cheeseburger! Happy Meal! The toys are _awesome _right now." Jason cried, holding up his guitar to attract my attention. You know, as if the yell hadn't already done that.

I nodded to show him I'd digested this information (Happy Meal. He was twenty-four, for God's sake) and turned to the other two, ready to hear what they wanted.

"I'll just have some fries," Andy said, nodding at me. "I ate just before I walked in here, so I'm not too bad."

Glancing over at Nate, I asked him the same silent question.

"Actually, I'll tag along, I think. Gives me a chance to talk to you." He got up, grabbing his jacket too. Just as he did, though, his phone rang and he froze, looking at me.

I gestured over my shoulder, shrugging. There was no way I was waiting for him to have a phone conversation. My stomach was chewing _itself_. You can't _wait _when it's gotten to that stage. "You can answer it. We'll talk later. I'll just get you a burger."

Nate looked like he wanted to protest, but I didn't give him the opportunity to.

Practically bouncing out of the door of the studio, I took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door as quickly as I could. I pulled my car keys out of my pocket and put my index finger through the keyring, spinning them around as I walked towards the vehicle they'd open. Food, food, food. This was how celebrities stayed so thin; sometimes they worked so hard that they barely got chance to eat all day.

I got into the car and started the ignition, the radio turning on almost instantly.

_This has been no walk in the park_

_I feel like we have, fallen apart_

Groaning, I flicked it off immediately. It wasn't often that we heard ourselves on the radio anymore, but when we did the song was almost always preceded with a "where are they now?" comment by the presenter. Sometimes they even mentioned the girl that had changed everything. Some of them remembered her name, some of them called her Millie or Molly, but all of them remembered that it had been me she'd changed.

The nearest McDonalds was about five minutes away - hence me picking McDonalds as opposed to any other fast food takeout - and I was pulling into the queue for the drive thru in what felt like no time at all. While I waited, I leaned forward and put the radio back on - our song had to be finished by now.

"That one was Dolly Parton with I Will Always Love You and before that, we had Connect 3 with Goodnight and Goodbye. Getting a lot of love for that song on emails, so apparently we've got an abundance of C3 fans listening!"

That made me smile, I'll admit, as I inched forward in the queue. Hopefully they'd still be C3 fans when they heard our new stuff. Even if, technically, we weren't Connect 3 anymore.

The car in front of me pulled away from the speaker and moved up to the collection window and I sighed with relief as I took its place. Running through the order in my head, I waited for someone to give me confirmation that my order was going to be taken.

Okay, so Jason wanted a cheeseburger Happy Meal… Andy wanted fries… Nate wanted…

"Hey there and welcome to McDonalds, can I take your order?"

My heart stopped.

It was her voice. Definitely. Definitely, _definitely._ I had a feeling that the voice last night had been her. I was _definitely _sure that the voice at the other end of this speaker was her. It had to be. It just did.

"Hello?" The crackly voice came again, elongating the 'o' sound at the end of the word. "I can totally see you out of the window, I know you're there."

At least… I think it's her.

I mean, it wouldn't be the first time my imagination played tricks on me, would it? I've been hearing her laugh and seeing her smile for the past three years and it's never been her. Why would this be any different? Plus, the sound quality on these systems wasn't great. It could sound like her from here and sound nothing like her in real life...

There was just… something about that stranger last night. I haven't heard from her in a while - what if she was back? What if this _wasn't _my imagination?

"Are you going to order anything, sir? Because if you're just gonna sit there… don't."

Shaking my head, I sat up properly and leaned closer to the speaker so that I could hear her properly when - and if - she replied. "Hi, so this is going to sound really creepy and weird, but can you tell me your name?"

There was silence for a few seconds before the crackle came again and she spoke. "Uh… why?"

"If I tell you why you're going to think I'm crazy. Especially if you're not who I think you are."

"Um… to tell you the truth, you're already making me think you're a little bit crazy."

"Well, that's… that's kinda understandable." I said, rolling my eyes at myself. "But - seriously - _please. _Tell me your name."

The silence was back again, and another few seconds stretched out in front of me before she replied. "I actually don't think it's all that appropriate…"

"Who cares about appropriate?" I cried, raising my voice louder than I probably should have and not helping my 'I'm-not-a-crazy-person' case whatsoever. "Fuck appropriateness! It's not much to ask; your name. That's it! I'm sure you've known it since birth!"

The crackly reply was almost instantaneous this time. "Okay, look. I don't know what makes you think you have the right to talk to me like that, but I'm paid to take your order. Not give you my name or my number or anything else. So if you're going to order something, fine. If not, please move ahead. Thank you."

It was my turn to be silent as I let the words sink in. It sounded so much like Mitchie. So much like when she told me off the night I met her. There was no way I could leave and not find out if it was her. There was _no way _I could leave and not be 100% sure that hearing her voice was my imagination and not reality.

"Please…" I said, my tone lowered.

"Hi, welcome to McDonalds… can I take your order?" A completely different voice - it was male and really, really deep - burst out of the speaker and I sat bolt upright.

My mind was spinning. I couldn't have imagined that whole exchange, could I? I hadn't temporarily blacked out and had fantasized all of that, right? "What happened to the last girl?"

"End of her shift," the voice replied, with no change of emotion whatsoever. "Can I take your order?"

What? What the hell?

"You know what?" I said, more to myself than in the microphone. "I'll come round to the front. Order properly." Maybe see her leaving…

Not waiting for a reply, I pulled away from the microphone and, not caring if I broke any speed rules (I was driving all of 10 yards), drove to the parking spaces at the front of the restaurant instead. She probably wouldn't have left yet. I had to see if it was her. Call it temporary insanity or whatever you want; if there was any chance that it was Mitchie - _my_ Mitchie - then I had to find out as soon as possible.

Slamming the door and running into the building, I looked around as soon as I was inside the front door. It looked the same as usual - families sitting, eating fast food that would clog up their arteries and most probably make them feel hungry again within about three hours; people with aprons and the uniform on, taking orders and frying fries in a huge… thing - but that didn't mean anything. To all of these people, Mitchie Torres meant nothing. She'd have no impact on their lives. Whereas if she were here… to me… to me, it'd mean just about everything.

I made my way to the front of the queue, ignoring the protests from the middle-aged man directly behind me, and slammed my hand on the counter to attract the attention of the nearest employee.

"Can I help you?" She asked, a strand of blonde hair sticking out from her hair net and a look in her eye that told me she half-recognized me.

"It's very possible. A girl just finished her shift here. I don't know her name or what she looks like, I don't know how long she's been working here or anything else about her. I just think I might know her from somewhere and I'd like someone to confirm my suspicions. So if you could tell me her name, I'd be immensely grateful."

I honestly didn't blame her for looking at me like I was a lunatic. If I'd been her, I'd have probably thought I was a lunatic too. It wasn't a _normal _request. And, now that I thought about it, it did sound a little bit like I was a deranged stalker and a bad one at that.

"I don't think I can - "

Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward on the counter. "Come on, are you telling me that you don't know the names of the people you work with? Has she left yet?"

"I really don't know what you're talking - "

"Katrina?" A man wearing a different coloured shirt to the rest of the employees walked over, raising his eyebrows at me. "Is everything okay over here?"

I turned to smile at him, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, it's fine. I was just asking for some help - maybe you can give me what I want. I need the name of one of your employees. The one that was working on the drive-thru speaker a couple of minutes ago - "

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to do that," he said, frowning at me.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "What do you _mean _you're not allowed to do that? They walk around with fucking name badges on! It's not like you're trying to keep their identities a _secret. _Look, your name's Mike and you're the Assistant Manager. You know how I know that? Your _badge. _But the girl on the speaker was a _voice. _I couldn't see her badge. All I'm basically asking you to do is give me information that I could read for myself if she was right in front of me, wearing her goddamn badge! I'm not asking for her address or her phone number! Her _name._"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to - "

"Ask me to what? Ask me to leave? I'm not leaving until you give me her name! It's not difficult! I think I know her."

Mike stepped forward and glared at me - I could tell his patience was wearing thin. Well, mine was too, so that makes two people. "If you think you know her, sir, why don't you go and ask her her name yourself?"

I slammed my hand on the counter again, not really thinking about what I was doing or saying anymore. I hadn't had an outburst like this in years. In about four years, to be more precise. "Look, _do you know who I am?_"

"I'm afraid I don't, sir. But it doesn't matter. Because you're causing a disturbance."

"And you know what? I'd stop causing a fucking disturbance if you gave me her name! I _think _she's this amazingly beautiful, talented, funny, smart girl named Michaela Marie Torres. And her voice has been driving me crazy for three years. I've been hearing it everywhere; my mind has kept it on repeat, over and over. But I came to the drive-thru today and I heard it for real and I'd like to check to see if it really is the girl I love or whether it's just my mind making me crazy again! A simple yes or no, will suffice. _Is Mitchie working here?_"

"If you don't leave now, sir - "

I let out a cry of frustration, throwing my hands in the air. "This is a joke. A total joke. You're all winding me up. One simple question and I'm being told to leave."

"You're being aggressive - "

"Only because you're being fucking stupid!"

"If you don't leave right now - "

I was suddenly aware of two men, standing either side of me. "It's alright, Mike. We can handle this."

Turning around, the magnitude of the situation I'd just caused _finally _sunk in. They were police officers.

Shit.

The one on my left grabbed my shoulder, glaring down at me before he turned back to the Assistant Manager. "Thanks for the lunch, Mike."

"Looks like you'll be coming downtown with us, buddy." The one on my right led the way as I was steered out of the restaurant.

All eyes were on me as they pulled open the door and took me out to their waiting police car. Usually, all eyes on me was a good thing. When you're on stage, if someone's looking away then it generally means you're not doing your job properly. Right now, all eyes on me sucked.

The burly man leading the way opened the back door of the vehicle, allowing the one behind me to push me inside. Then, they made their way to the front seats and started the engine.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Pulling out my cell phone, I brought up Nate's number and sent him a text as quickly and silently as possible.

_Dude… I might need your help._


	8. How Did We Get Here?

_**Title: **__You Make It Real_

_**Summary: **__Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note: **__So… as not perfect as this chapter is, in my opinion, I go back to school tomorrow and I wanted to give you guys this as an official end-of-summer treat. Plus, I've just seen the previews for JONAS and I hate that I find Joe Jonas totally hot. Really. :P But seriously guys, review pleaseeeee, just to make me feel even more stoked than I am right now! I know a whole bunch of people get email alerts when I update this story (214, to be precise), so you have no excuse! :P I'm kinda kidding - I hope you all enjoy this, whether you review or not. You might be in two minds about it… but hey, how would __**you **__react if you were Mitchie here? And nowwww I'm giving too much away. Read on!_

_**Disclaimer: **__See previous chapters, because I'm getting bored coming up with witty disclaimers._

_**Music: **__Decode - Paramore_

"_**How did we get here? I used to know you so well"**_

Shaking my head, I pulled the horrible McDonalds cap from my head and grabbed my two bags, making my way through the back door of the building.What the hell was that all about? My name? What could a faceless guy on the other side of a speaker want my name for?It was just a little bit creepy. Then again… this was LA. Maybe this was what people did here. Maybe it was acceptable in this city. A lot of other things were.

I pulled my McDonalds shirt off, exposing the pale pink tank top that I'd worn underneath (and definitely wished I hadn't, because it was so damn hot near that fryer and extra layers were more of a hindrance than a help). It may have been sweltering in California in the summer, but I was almost glad to be getting outside in the heat; it was an insane heat inside the restaurant. Then I raked my hair into a ponytail and secured it in place with a hair tie (with one hand; oh yeah, be impressed) just as I was pushing open the back door that led to freedom. Well… until my next shift, obviously.

Almost as soon as I stepped out of the building, a cab pulled up and Caitlin rolled down the window in the back seat, grinning at me.

"I was in the area and remembered you had to drop some food off for Anto. It's a long walk, so I decided to be the nice friend and save your legs the trouble."

I grinned in return as I pulled the car door open and slid inside, breathing a sigh of relief as my feet connected with the floor and my butt connected with the seat. I hadn't sat down all day and it had taken it's toll. "My legs thank you very much."

Not really concentrating on anything but how relieved I was at actually being able to sit down, I didn't really listen as Caitlin gave the address to the driver and then leaned back to copy my position, continuing the conversation.

"Well, you know me. I absolutely hate putting your legs through more than they _have_ to go through."

"And they love you for it," I said, opening one eye and looking at her sideways. "Ugh, I don't think I ever want to eat a McDonalds again. Not that I ate it a lot to begin with, but seriously… never again."

Caitlin laughed loudly, tossing her curly hair as she did so, and patted my shoulder in what I supposed was meant to be reassuring but was also pretty patronising too. "Oh, Mitchie. You'd better get used to it, because it's the only place hiring around here right now. And it's not _too _bad. At least you're not cutting out a vital part of your diet by giving up Big Macs! Better McDonalds than carrots. Or… something."

I didn't construct a verbal reply; just groaned lightly and closed the eye I'd opened to look at her. She was right - it hadn't been incredibly bad - but it definitely wasn't the sort of thing I'd been expecting when I'd made my plans to come back here. I'd been thinking a cool waitressing gig or even something _awesome _like working at a music hall selling tickets or similar to that. That's what I'd envisioned. Not working at a fast food restaurant, taking people's orders and having to put up with creepy people asking your name and not taking no for an answer.

"Ooh, was it really that bad?" She asked, obviously taking my lack of words to mean that it was so horrible that no words could describe. "Was it so bad that you've forgotten your English?"

Pushing myself up to sit properly, I opened my eyes and let the guy's voice wash over me again. "This really weird guy came by to order something at the drive-thru. It was more than odd. I just… asked him if I could take his order and then suddenly he's asking what my name is. Not even asking, he was like… demanding it. It was insane. He was all 'you've known it since birth, tell me your name!' and I was all 'I'm not paid to give you my name, now order something or leave'."

"For serious?" Caitlin asked, her eyes sparking with curiosity. "What happened?"

I shrugged. "My shift was over; I left. It was just before I walked out the building, so he's probably still there, arguing with whoever took over."

Immediately she turned around to look in the rear window, as though she'd be able to see whoever it was despite having driven a good bit away from the McDonalds building and forgetting that she hadn't actually seen the car in question, so it wouldn't make a difference. "Man, why does exciting stuff like that never happen to me when I'm working? I've been there two years but no, you're entitled to excitement before me."

I rolled my eyes, mimicking her patting on the shoulder action and putting on my most sympathetic expression. "Aww, Caity. I'm sure some excitement will come your way real soon. Especially if you did as I said and _told Nate how you feel about him_!"

"You know what? Scratch that, I don' need excitement. I'm fine without the excitement. Totally fine."

Laughing, I glanced out of the side window at the LA traffic that we were currently immobile in. If I hadn't been living in a big city for the past three years, I probably would've been completely shocked. Back in Cohasset it was never this busy. There weren't this many people. It had been a total culture shock when I'd arrived in London; it had to have been a pretty similar experience for Cait when she left Massachusetts.

A siren from behind us caused the cab to jerk to life again as it got out of the way to let the car that was blaring past. It sped past my window and was gone in seconds, like a lot of cars were in this city. They all sped past, going on with their own lives.

"Whoa, I wonder if we'll get the 411 on whoever was in there," Caitlin said, watching the retreating unmarked car. "Remind me to ask Anto when we get to the station, okay?"

I nodded, as the car disappeared down the road and the rest of the traffic moved forwards. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about that car that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. It was completely irrational - I had no idea who was even in that police car - but that was how I worked these days, apparently. Logic and rational thinking had gone out of the window and suddenly I was all about fate and doing things for the hell of it.

Fifteen minutes later, after having an odd conversation about Big Macs and quarter-pounders (stemmed from a movie quoting session in which Pulp Fiction came up) the taxi pulled up outside the police station.

Jumping out as Cait handed a ten dollar bill to the driver, I sighed at my reflection in the wing mirror. It was terrible; my hair was a mess, the little makeup I'd put on that morning had run thanks to the heat and clothes for a shift at McDonalds were not _nice _clothes. There was a reason they were worn to work and not to go out in.

"Stop worrying. It's only Anto that's gonna see you here and, with your heart still belonging to a certain Shane Grey, I doubt you're looking to impress him." Caitlin's face popped up in the mirror next to me as she slammed the door and the cab moved forwards. "The dorm rooms are only around the corner, so we can walk back home. I figured you could do with some air after being stuck indoors all day next to that fryer."

I smiled at her in appreciation and she linked her arm with mine as we ascended the steps to the station. "It's paying for the college education, right?"

"That it is, Mitchie. That it is," she said, nodding.

Just like they do in all the movies, we stuck our free arms out simultaneously and pushed the double doors open in unison, laughing as we did so.

"Caitlin! Mitchie! Ronald McDonald!" Anto called, standing up from his place behind the desk, which was further up the hall, and waving. "You guys are my saviors!"

Breaking arms with my best friend, I sped up a little more and put the bag of food on his desk. "Just for you."

"I am so hungry, it's not even funny. I could kiss you." He seemed to realize what he'd said as soon as he'd said it, and carried on quickly. "But I won't!"

By this time Caitlin had caught up, and she sat on the desk, raising her eyebrows. "Good. Mitchie's heart belongs to someone else."

I rolled my eyes, folding my arms across my chest. While I liked Anto - really, I did; he was a nice guy - I didn't really want to get into this conversation with him. Especially not when Nate had said that he'd tell Shane that I was here and then get back to me, but had yet to do so. It just felt like it was jinxing it.

"Oh, really?" Anto asked, pulling the burger from the wrapper and sitting back down in his seat. "And who would this be? Do I know him?"

Caitlin laughed, opening her mouth to spill all, but I cut her off.

"I'd really rather not talk about it, Caitlin. Really."

Obviously sensing that I was uncomfortable with the prospect of telling Anto about my past with a famous popstar, she obeyed and promptly changed the subject. Turns out she didn't need me to remind her about the car that had driven past us - she'd remembered it herself.

"So, hey, what was that car that passed us on our way from McDonalds? Anyone come in? Was it something exciting? A robbery? A shooting? Something equally as wrong but enthralling nonetheless?"

Anto laughed, nodding. "Nothing like that - I think it's more of a 'it's a quiet day so let's teach this troublemaker a lesson' thing than something exciting, but it's funny anyway. The guy just kept saying that he was famous and that all he'd been doing was inquire after someone he used to know and that it wasn't his fault that the people who were working were incompetent. I don't know the full story, but I got the gist as he was taken past me. I was pretty hungry at the time though, so I was focussing more on my empty stomach than on this guy. Didn't recognise him though."

"Aw, man. See that's still more exciting than anything I did today. Why is it that somehow, both you and Mitchie lead more exciting lives than I do?" Caitlin complained, and I couldn't help but grin as I turned to watch the door. I don't know what compelled me to keep my gaze in that direction, but I did anyway.

"Maybe it's karma." I heard Anto suggest.

The door to the station opened and a guy in jeans and an Elvis Costello t-shirt, with his head down was talking rapidly into a cell phone. He was just far enough away that I couldn't hear what he was saying, but there was that feeling again; that feeling that I'd felt my first day at college with the guy at the window, that feeling I'd felt with the stranger on the roof… I just felt that I knew him from somewhere.

"Maybe the gods hate me," Caitlin said, with an over-dramatic sigh, oblivious to the deja-vu I was having.

He was getting closer and words were now distinguishable. "I don't know" and "he texted, told me to be here" and "recording's just going to have to end for today". His voice was definitely familiar too - I felt like I'd heard it really recently - and this time I was _sure_ that I knew him. No maybe about it. I definitely, definitely, definitely knew…

Oh my God.

"Maybe it's - " Anto had begun a sentence behind me, but I didn't even really process it. All I could think of was the guy that had just walked in. The guy that I knew who had just walked in.

"Nate."

Caitlin's head snapped to look at me - I could see out of the corner of my eye - and she wrinkled her nose. "Mitchie, I told you. I can't tell Nate - "

Shaking my head to stop her mid-sentence, I pointed at Nate, who was now completely recognisable. "No! It's Nate! There!"

At the mention of his name, Nate's head snapped up and his eyes made contact with mine immediately, glancing at Caitlin (who had slid down from her sitting position on the desk in shock and was now standing, looking at where I'd pointed) only seconds later. He didn't even say goodbye before terminating the call and came to a stop in front of us, looking utterly gobsmacked. Literally; like someone had smacked him. In the mouth.

"Caitlin? Mitchie?" He looked back and forwards from each of us (don't think I hadn't noticed that he'd said Cait's name first or that he spent a little bit longer looking at her, either, because I so had!) and was obviously trying to think of something coherent to say next. "What are you… what are you guys doing here?"

"We were, uh, bringing Anto some food," I said, gesturing over my shoulder to Anto, who was looking completely bewildered by the whole scenario. "He asked me to bring it at the end of my shift and I did and Caitlin came with… what… what are you doing here?"

His face fell slightly, and he reached up to scratch the back of his neck, awkwardly. "Uh… well…"

He didn't want to tell me, for some reason, I picked that up in seconds. But it didn't make sense why he wouldn't want to tell me. What could possibly have happened to bring him to a police station that he wouldn't want to tell me about?

And then, suddenly, it all fell into place.

"_If I tell you why you're going to think I'm crazy. Especially if you're not who I think you are."_

"_The guy just kept saying that he was famous and that all he'd been doing was inquire after someone he used to know."_

"Shane," I whispered, but Nate, Caitlin and Anto heard perfectly. And even though officers were passing by, doing the duty and talking to each other, suddenly everything seemed to be going silent and moving in slow motion.

The guy at the drive-thru was Shane. He'd recognised my voice, obviously unaware that I was back in the country, and reverted back to the Shane I'd first met in order to find out who I actually was.

The cop car that had passed us was carrying Shane to this very police station. I could just imagine it; my voice had been replaced with someone else's and, unable to admit defeat, he'd made a scene that had resulted in the police turning up. That was what the old, jerky Shane would've done. He would've decided that because of his status, he deserved to know exactly what he needed to know, when he needed to know it.

Nate was here to bail Shane out. Shane had been brought to the police station to be taught a lesson. Anto had been laughing at _Shane. My _Shane.

Except… was he still my Shane? My Shane wouldn't have gotten himself arrested for making a scene. My Shane wouldn't have spread around that he was famous - especially now that Connect 3 seemed to be off the radar. Oh God… when I had left had he gone back to being a selfish, arrogant jerk? Had I done that? Fixed him by coming into his life and undone it all by leaving it?

The world around was still silent and slow and I knew that unless I said something, we'd probably all just stand, motionless for a long while. So, clearing my throat and trying to speak above a whisper, I spoke again. "It's Shane, isn't it? The guy they brought in? The guy at the drive-thru. It's _Shane_."

"Mitchie…" Nate began, holding his hands out, presumably to try and calm me before I let my spinning mind take over. "Mitchie, just let him…"

I shook my head, stepping back and bumping against the desk. "Oh my God. It is. It is! It's Shane! Oh my God, what the hell was he _thinking_?"

"Just let me go get him and he can - "

What Nate thought he would be able to do, I don't know, because his eyes suddenly slid past me and to someone behind me. My stomach immediately sank - assuming Anto wasn't a long lost friend of his and he'd just realised, there was someone new standing nearby and I had a feeling I knew who that someone was going to be.

"Holy shit." I heard Cait mutter from behind me and my suspicions were confirmed. Now I just had to psych myself up for what - or who - I was no doubt about to see.

Closing my eyes, I exhaled slowly. When my eyes were closed it was like the world had definitely been put on pause and that I was buying me time to get myself ready. Get myself prepared. Get myself…

"Mitchie?"

Shane's voice was exactly as I remembered, just a little bit hoarser and lower, as though he couldn't quite believe the situation he had landed himself in. _I _couldn't quite believe the situation he'd landed himself - and I - in. And I knew the time was approaching for me to turn around and face him for the first time in three years, in a _police station _of all places. When I'd imagined our reunion (because even if I hadn't been sure it would ever happen, I could still imagine) we hadn't been in a police station. But here we were. This was it. This was real.

Allowing my eyes to flicker open again, I shifted my weight and counted to three in my head. On three, I'd turn. On three. On…

I turned around.

Nothing could have prepared me for seeing him again - not even my exhaling and eye-closing. Nothing. He was actually standing there, a policeman behind him. His black hair was curly, not straight, and his brown eyes were staring into mine as though they could see right through me. See exactly what I was thinking and what I was feeling.

I suddenly became aware of how bad I'd looked in the wing mirror of the car and tried to fight the blush that was spreading across my cheeks because of it, telling myself that with Shane being _arrested, _it didn't really matter how I looked.

He looked exactly the same, but different. Older. Wiser. _Hotter._ Oh, yeah. Definitely hotter.

I bit my lip, swallowing hard to try and make my mouth less dry. God. Oh my God. I was no ready for this, I was no ready for this, I was not ready for this…

"Um… yeah. Yeah, Shane. It's me."


	9. We’re Strangers In An Empty Space

_**Title: **__You Make It Real_

_**Summary: **__Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note: **__Although I promised myself I wouldn't leave you with a cliffhanger like that for long, life got in the way and I've been writing essays on the Russian Revolution for five months instead of updating this. I am totally sorry and it doesn't look like it'll be any easier for me to squeeze writing in next term, but just know that I will update whenever I can and I'm NOT abandoning this story at all. It just might take a while. I've also adapted my plan now, because I've fixed some holes and such, so I'm hoping to have a new chapter up soon. It's the Christmas holidays now, so I'll definitely be writing more! I feel so bad, because this time last year I was finishing Believe In Me and had only started it like, three months before, and I've been doing this since January. I'm working on it, seriously. Please, please, please don't give up on me. There's 27 chapters in all of this, and I WILL write all 27, even if it kills me. If I don't update before Christmas, I hope you all have a good holiday and get whatever you wished for, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed I'll have SOMETHING up before New Years, even if it isn't a new chapter of this._

_**Disclaimer: **__See previous chapters, because I'm getting bored coming up with witty disclaimers._

_**Music: **__We Might As Well Be Strangers - Keane_

"_**I don't know your thoughts these days, we're strangers in an empty space"**_

"It wasn't as bad as anyone is making it out to be!" I said, for what felt like the millionth time since I'd been brought to this stupid police station. Seriously, were people not getting murdered somewhere? Were there not burglars on the loose? Targeting me wasn't going to get their crime figures any better, because I hadn't even committed a crime. "I just wanted to find this girl that I lost a few years a - "

This was completely ridiculous, I thought, as I was dragged to the front of the station once again. There was no point in even challenging anything anymore, because they weren't going to listen to me anyway. The LA police were the stupidest people ever. And we, as a city, put our safety in the hands of these douches? So not reassuring.

"Oh my God. What the hell was he _thinking?_"

As we got closer to the open door that led to the entrance hall, I heard raised voices waft through. Raised voices that I, strangely, recognized - and it wasn't just Nate. In particular, a voice that I'd heard in the twilight, when I was sitting on my roof trying to nail a song. And a voice that I'd heard over the McDonalds speaker when I was trying to order food. A voice that I'd heard over and over in my head a hell of a lot for the past few years and was - there was no doubt about it this time - hearing for sure right now.

Reaching the door, I stopped still under the frame, my eyes gluing themselves to the back of a certain someone's head. Her hair was black now. Before it had been a dark brown. And it was shorter… and messier, but that probably wasn't a permanent thing. She was thinner, I think, and had on a thin pink tank top that she wore well. Then again, she was Mitchie, of course she wore it well. She probably could've been wearing a cardboard box and looked amazing. I wouldn't have necessarily approved, but there would be no denying that she was still as pretty as ever.

If someone had said to me that on my first official meeting with Mitchie Torres - the most amazing girl I've ever met - in three long years, I'd be at a police station accused of being "aggressive" towards McDonalds employees, I would've laughed at them. This sort of thing only happens in unrealistic Hollywood movies, I swear. Yet here I was, in the middle of reality, behind a desk in a police station with a burly policeman, my bandmate, the girl who could very well be the love of my life, the best friend of the girl who could very well be the love of my life… and some random guy I didn't know (who was he, and why was he here?). This was just great. Why did the gods hate me?

What the hell do you say to someone who you've dreamed about for three years when you're reunited in a friggin' police station?

"Mitchie?"

My voice was hoarser then I'd have liked it to have been, but I chose not to care and, instead, watched as her shoulders shook slightly in reception to my words. I'd have liked to know what her facial reaction was to it being me but she had yet to turn around and show me how much she really had changed. I could notice superficial things from the back - how much weight she'd lost (or gained, but that didn't apply here), how much she'd cut her hair, what she was wearing - but I couldn't look into her eyes and see whether the three years that she'd taken to become "ready" had worked when she was facing the other direction.

As soon as I had that thought, though, she spun (in slow motion, it seemed) on the ball of her foot to face me. I'm not going to sugar-coat it; her actual superficial appearance was a mess. Her hair was messy and her makeup had run and she looked both tired and bewildered at the same time. But that didn't matter. I didn't give a fuck. Because she was as beautiful as ever (even more so thanks to the blush that was spreading across her cheeks) and it actually _hurt _that I'd missed out on being with this amazing person over the past three years. Not that that separation had been my fault, but you know what I mean. I wished I had been with her for the past three years. I wished.

"Um… yeah. Yeah, Shane. It's me," she said, biting down on her lip hard; I could see her bottom lip discoloring with the pressure.

I was at a loss of what move to make next, really. I wanted to just sweep her into my arms and tell her that I should've followed her to London and that I was an ass for everything I'd done that had hurt her before she left me. I just didn't know how she'd respond to that greeting, and it hurt to lose her once. I'm not sure I could do it again. I _know _I couldn't do it again.

"What… what are you doing here?" I asked, my mouth still dry. I honestly didn't know what to say or do or think, because this was everything I'd ever dreamed of happening and yet it wasn't. I'd wanted us to meet and start over; not forget everything that had happened to us previously (because, let's face it, that would be pretty impossible) but to expand on it. I'd wanted to show her that this was me now; that in becoming a Shane Grey who nobody knew, I'd worked out what I wanted and was definitely a changed man from the jerk that she'd met three years ago.

The problem? Standing in a police station after being accused of aggressive behavior in a public forum? Yeah, it doesn't do much for my 'I've-changed' case. I'm unintentionally giving off jerk vibes right now, there's no two ways about it.

"Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing, but I think I've worked it out on my own." Her tone was bordering on harsh, but not explicitly so. It sounded like she was more shocked, to be honest, and I didn't blame her for that. I was pretty shocked myself. Mitchie Torres was most definitely back in the USA, for one. That was news to me. And she was in LA, which was another coincidence. She'd lived on the East Coast for the majority of her life - what were the chances she would be here, where I was?

We spent so long sure that fate was conspiring against us three years ago, yet here it was, bringing us together again.

"How are you?" I asked, ignoring the fact that Caitlin and some guy I'd never met were gaping at me like I'd grown an extra head and the fact that Nate kept glancing at Cait out of the corner of his eye (like anyone wouldn't know what that meant). It might not have been the perfect reunion moment that I'd envisioned so many times, but I'd take what I could get. Roll with the punches and all.

The look of surprise on her face told me that this was not where she'd expected the conversation to go next and there was a few seconds of silence as she no doubt contemplated how to answer the question I'd put to her. Eventually, her voice an octave higher than it was naturally, she answered: "In shock right now, I think. This wasn't how I expected my day to turn out."

I raised one arm to scratch the back of my neck, as I did when I was nervous. And right now I was most definitely nervous. I could not screw this up. Something had thrown us back together at this precise moment in time and I might never get this opportunity again. She might be only temporarily in LA. Or, even if she's not, it's a big city.

Grinning sheepishly, I replied in what I hoped was a joking manner. Lightening the mood seemed to be the way to go. "Funnily enough, me neither."

"Oh, well. That's good to know. At least you weren't intending to be arrested when you woke up this morning. I wouldn't want you to be preempting these things, obviously."

I wasn't sure whether I'd said the right thing or not. She seemed to be getting over her shock slowly - because her voice was going back to normal - but I had no idea what emotion would be following. And, because of that, I had no idea what to say next. There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, but whether or not they would be appropriate at this moment in time… There was an odd expression forming on Mitchie's face and although I'd like to think that I knew her pretty well despite the three year separation, I couldn't read it at all.

Caitlin, who had been remaining uncharacteristically quiet while we'd been engrossed in this strange exchange, stepped forwards suddenly and tried to grab Mitchie's arm. "Mitchie, I know you and just think abo-"

Whatever Caitlin was trying to get Mitchie to think about, I'd never know; Mitchie side-stepped Cait's attempt to keep hold of her and stepped closer to me, a trace of anger in her voice as she spoke, putting forward a question of her own. "So… what the hell were you thinking?"

"Mitchie," Nate said, his voice low as he stopped studying me and focussed on the dark-haired girl in front of him. "I don't think this is the place for this kind of conversation."

"I don't care if this is the place or not, Nate," she said adamantly, not taking her eyes from mine. "I need to know what the hell was going through his head, if anything was going through his head at all. This wasn't the Shane I left. This wasn't the Shane that I watched melt into the distance as I drove away three years ago, and I want to know if… I need to know what he was thinking."

"I think Nate's right, Mitchie..." Caitlin tried once again to reach for her arm, but was stopped again. "This isn't where you want to have this conversation. Why don't we just wait until he's released and then you can talk and it might be easier to explain?"

This time she didn't argue but stood rooted to the ground, her eyes connected with mine with no sign of her relenting any time soon. And, just like before, I felt compelled to talk; to explain myself to the girl that had been standing outside the tour bus in Pennsylvania awaiting an explanation for something that I'd had no real control over. I just hoped I was better with words than I had been three years ago in the rain.

"I wasn't. Thinking, I mean. I just… I heard you. I heard you and I couldn't… I've not been able to get your voice - your face - out of my head for three years. So… I thought I heard you and had to find out whether it was really you, or whether it was just my head, playing tricks on me again. I wasn't thinking about what I was saying, or what I was doing. I was thinking about you."

Silence passed as everyone stared at me - Caitlin (with a trace of a smile on her face), Nate (who looked like he was really fighting not to roll his eyes), the guy I didn't even know (who was just looking confused) and Mitchie, my Mitchie. Her expression was almost indistinguishable; her eyes were still locked with mine, but they had no emotion in them. Or, if they did, I couldn't find it. I wanted so badly to find it, so that I could maybe tell how this would go from here, but I couldn't.

After what felt like a year, she let out a breath and then forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. And, as soon as I noticed that her smile didn't reach her eyes, my heart sank down to my stomach. This… this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Well, isn't that nice. Can you believe that, Cait? Shane was thinking about me when he was being aggressive towards my employers. He was thinking about me when he was arrested. Isn't that adorable?"

"Mitchie, you know that's not what he mea-" Nate began to try and defend me, having seen my deflation and knowing that I was still just as bad with words as I had been when I was twenty - unless they were in lyric form.

Just like always, though, fate decided to get in the way and ruin my chances; Nate was cut off by a policeman slamming some papers down on the desk and holding out a pen. "We'll need you to sign here, Mr. Grey."

"Come on, Cait," Mitchie said, breaking the eye contact, turning away from me and getting ready to walk up the hall to leave the building. "Let's leave Shane to the voices in his head. Bye Nate, Anto."

Caitlin turned to Nate and whispered something quickly. I couldn't hear, being that I was on the other side of the desk, but he nodded in reply and they both looked back in my direction, Cait shooting me a sympathetic look, before turning to look over at the confused guy (who I _still_ didn't know the identity of, by the way). "I'll talk to you later, Anto."

Whether he replied to her or not, I have no idea, because I was too focussed on watching Caitlin try to catch up to a dark-haired girl - the one I'd been missing for three years and who had walked back into my life at the worst possible time. And even though she seemed to be angry at me, there was no denying that I felt the exact same way about her as I had when she left for London. Even though my guardian angel must have been on his lunch break when Mitchie walked through the doors to the police station earlier, I still felt as though we were meant to be together. It's just a shame life always seems to have other plans for us.

It was only when the both of them had left the building, stepping out into the blinding LA sunlight, that I noticed the pen that was still being waved around in front of my face. Had this policeman not realized what had just happened? Did he have no sympathy in his heart whatsoever?

Grabbing the pen, I scrawled a signature on the line as quickly as possible, not even caring how legible it was. Maybe if I could go now then I could catch up to her. Maybe I could explain myself better. Maybe I could convince her that she still meant everything to me, because she did. Maybe I could still fix it.

"Now, we'll just have to get a formal statement from you…"

"How long will that take?" Nate asked hurriedly, obviously having the same idea that I'd had and trying to work out how possible it would be.

The officer shrugged. "Depends how co-operative he is. If he's like he is now, which I'm assuming he will be, sbout fifteen minutes, minimum? Ten if he's really quick."

Even running out of the building now would be pushing it; there were so many routes away from here, and I had no idea which direction she'd be going in. Ten minutes was way too long. She could be anywhere in ten minutes. I sighed, dragging my gaze back over to the door that had framed her as she'd left.

Or maybe she'd just walk out of my life once again.


	10. I Play It Off But I'm Dreaming Of You

_**Title: **__You Make It Real_

_**Summary: **__Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note: **__I won't blame any of you guys if you've given up on this story, and this chapter isn't likely to restore your faith in it much. It's a short one, and was always meant to be a short, useless one in my plan, so I'm sorry it's the one that I bring you after months of absence but hey. I __**will **__be finishing this story, no matter how long it takes me, and hopefully some of you guys will still be with me. I'm off for two weeks, I'll write whenever I can and I hope I can lay both Believe In Me and You Make It Real to rest in a way that I'm happy with them both, really soon. If you're still with me from the start, thank you. If you're just reading all of these, then I still thank you. And if you've given up in my unauthorized hiatus (though you're unlikely to be reading this is you have) then thank you for being there and reading this at all. :]_

_**Disclaimer: **__See previous chapters, because I'm getting bored coming up with witty disclaimers. I don't own Beautiful Disaster by Kelly Clarkson, either._

_**Music: **__I Try – Macy Gray_

"_**I play it off, but I'm dreaming of you, I'll keep my cool, but I'm feigning"**_

I ran my fingers across the piano keys, trying to keep my mind on the task at hand: third week assignments, where Brown gets his first taster at how good we are at our craft. And, in case it isn't obvious, I'm not all that comfortable performing my own lyrics in front of people anyway, so the thought of performing my own lyrics when my mind was completely taken over by a certain pop star who I'd recently bumped into in the local police station was almost impossible.

I hadn't been able to think of anything but Shane for the three days that had elapsed since we'd come face to face again, and yet I still hadn't managed to work out how I felt about it all. I'd overreacted a little, I guess. But he'd been arrested for aggressive behavior when trying to find me! Wasn't I entitled to overreact a little bit in that situation? It seems like one of those situations where overreaction is acceptable. Or maybe that's just me trying to justify myself…

Shane had been there, standing in front of me. He'd been broken and not living the happy life that I'd constructed for him in the past three years. He didn't have the family and the picket fence and he was hung up over me, just like I was over him. So why had I not told him that? Why had I not said the things I'd wanted to be able to say for three long years?

I hadn't said the things I'd wanted the opportunity to say for three long years because I'd been too scared. Too scared that he'd reverted back to the person I'd initially met, that had been arrogant and infuriating but oh-so charming at the same time. Too scared that maybe it was my fault Connect 3 had bombed and that he thought he wanted me back, but would soon realize that I was the root of the problem and would consequently throw me away again. Too scared of opening myself up to the sort of hurt that I'd run away from when I left him the first time around.

Maybe I didn't need three years to find myself in London. Maybe I was always just too scared.

"You alright, kiddo?" Brown's voice floated into the music room that I'd asked permission to use for the evening, and I looked up to see him standing in the doorway watching me.

Smiling slightly at my teacher, I nodded, still climbing scales on the piano with my fingers. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just worrying about this assignment, is all."

He stepped further into the room, an understanding expression written over his face. "I know how you feel, love. And that might be hard to believe, but I genuinely do."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and tilting my head, letting my fingers fall from the keys and just letting my words resonate around the room.

"Yeah!" Brown said, emphatically, still walking forwards. When he reached the piano he stood behind it, looking down at me. "The assignment is to tell me who you are. Expressing yourself from a deeply personal level is difficult anyway, why do you think we need trained therapists and psychologists? We don't like to even talk about things that have made us who we are, because a lot of the time it's things that we like to keep private. Expressing yourself through music is a whole different ball game and it's even harder because of that. It's not just talking about things that have made up who we are, but it's putting them to music and, as you'll well know, music is subjective. Some people will love some bands, others will hate them. Some people will love your song, some people might hate it, and the fact that this song is so personal to you, the thought that someone could hate it is horrible."

I laughed slightly. Caitlin had been right when she'd said he was awesome, because he really was. Needed to work on his pep talks though. "You're not really making me feel all that much better, Brown."

"Did I say I could make you feel better? I believe I just said I knew how you felt." He grinned at me, a twinkle in his eye, and leaned his hands on the top of the piano. "A lot of kids will get up there and sing about who they think they are. I'm saying to you… write or play something that is you."

"And what if I don't know who I am?"

He shrugged, sliding his hands from the wood and beginning to walk backwards out of the room. "Then I'd say that's where you begin to have a problem. But think about it, Mitch. You might just be thinking too hard trying to work it out. You might realize when you least expect it."

I wasn't convinced, but he was already leaving the room: conversation over. As far as Brown Cesario was concerned, it was up to me now.

Glancing around the room – which was pretty much empty apart from me, the piano and a door that obviously led to the room next door – I sighed. Write or play something that is… me. How was I supposed to know who that was when I'd spent the last three days doubting my actions of the last three years? How was I supposed to know who that was when the only time I'd ever felt _whole _was when I was sharing a tour bus with one guy who could ask me any question and I'd answer it completely honestly?

I groaned and buried my face in my hands, slamming my elbows down on the nearest surface – which just so happened to be the piano keys. The mash of notes ricocheted around the room and I let every one die before I lifted my head.

Letting my fingers rest on the keys that made up a song that wasn't one I considered to define me, I let Shane's face rest in my mind and started to play. I'd spent too long trying to force thoughts about him out of my mind and that hadn't worked for me. Maybe this was the way forward.

"_He drowns in his dreams  
An exquisite extreme I know  
He__'__s as dumb as he seems  
And more heaven than a heart could hold  
And if I try to save him  
My whole world could cave in  
It just ain__'__t right  
It just ain__'__t right."_

I was scared, still. Even after my time away to try and work out what was best for me, I was still completely scared of everything Shane was to me. There sounds like there's a lot of difference between being eighteen and twenty-one, but there doesn't have to be. There's not. You can be scared and naïve and clueless at both ages. You can be scared and naïve and clueless at all ages. All you can hope to do is keep playing the song and work it out as you go along.

"_Oh when I don__'__t know  
I don__'__t know what he__'__s after,  
But he__'__s so beautiful  
Such a beautiful disaster  
And if I could hold on  
Through the tears and the laughter  
Would it be beautiful?  
Or just a beautiful disaster?"_

And that was what I'd have to do. If I saw Shane again, I'd just have to work it out as I went along, scared or not.


	11. Boys Like Him Don't Shine

_**Title: **__You Make It Real_

_**Summary: **__Sequel to Believe In Me. Mitchie left for London, opting to find herself before she got involved with Shane. Now, three years on, everything has changed. Mitchie's coming back to the USA, Connect 3 have disappeared off the music scene entirely and fate is intervening like crazy... will they still believe? Or is it just too real to handle?_

_**Pairing/s: **__Smitchie, Naitlin and Jella. Hello to planning everything beforehand and deciding on these couples._

_**Authors Note: **__So, I recently got two reviews for this story and had this sudden need to write something more for it. Since March, I've been trying to work out where I'm going – both with this story and in my life in general – and have struggled massively to come to a conclusion to either. Call it writer's block, or call it general laziness, I can dispute neither of those options, but I promise I will finish it. Like I've said in all of my other author's notes (that, admittedly, were written a very long time ago) I do love you guys and I love this story, I just don't want to hammer out some chapters and call it finished. I want to write something that I can look back on and be proud of – and that you guys will enjoy. This chapter, however, is more than rubbish and I'm very sorry about that. Hopefully I just have to write some of these not-so-good chapters to lead me to writing better ones again. Stick with me. I'll try my best not to let you down._

_**Disclaimer: **__See previous chapters, because I'm getting bored coming up with witty disclaimers. _

_**Music: **__Sticks 'n' Stones – Jamie T_

"**When there's no one left to fight, boys like him don't shine so bright"**

"Yeah, I'm walking in the building now," I said, rolling my eyes at the insane turn my life had taken. Things had been going so quietly for so long and yet, bang, that all changed so suddenly.

Thankfully news of my "arrest" hadn't made it into any news outlets, so only the people involved knew anything about it – but still, they were all making a bigger deal out of it than it warranted. Brown had demanded a meeting at the earliest possible convenience and that was now. Honestly, all I wanted to do was sit at home wishing I had the guts to go out and comb the LA streets for the girl that I now knew was living here.

Nate had come clean as we'd left the police station, admitting that he'd known all about her being in the city, but wanted to wait for the best moment to tell me. He'd had no idea that we'd cross paths so soon and I couldn't fault him for that. Honestly, any logical person would have probably assumed the same thing. Around four million people live in Los Angeles – what are the odds that two people will find each other so quickly? Since then, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet around me, but I put that down to him being sympathetic. It sucked, having my band mates feel more sympathy towards me, especially when it was over the same thing they'd been pitying me for for three years.

"Right, I'll see you in here then." Brown sounded preoccupied, but still managed to maintain his stern tone of voice that he reserved for times of being "uncool".

"Well, now that I've driven all the way over here, I'd bet on it," I finished, taking the phone away from my ear and hanging up before he could say anything else.

Rolling my eyes (again) at nothing in particular, I pulled open the door to the college and made my way down the hallway.

This talk with Brown seemed a huge waste of time, really. There wasn't much he could say to me that I hadn't thought to myself over the past few days, and I doubted he was going to give me a pep talk about the whole thing and tell me it was going to be alright. I was going to come away from this discussion with my uncle feeling no better about the whole situation and having wasted another afternoon that I could have been spending in the studio.

Now that I knew exactly what she looked like, exactly where she was, exactly what she was doing with herself, it made the feeling worse. I did still really care about her, just as I had when she'd left. And as _completely insane _as it may be – the insanity of the situation is not lost on me, believe me – I feel as though I know her so well but not at all at the same time.

I wasn't paying any attention to the steps I was taking, nor what was going on around me. Doors to classrooms and music rooms lined the walls, but the lights were all off, and there didn't seem to be any music coming from any of them. Just as expected, really – it was the evening. Who would be hanging around in a music room at college on a Friday night?

Granted, I had been sitting in the studio trying to write a song well into the night last week, not to mention the countless hours I'd spent sitting on my roof. I was even more of a sad freak than any college student who may be sitting in one of these music rooms on a Friday night. I'd spent the last three years pining and writing songs, hadn't I?

Unless these students had an affinity for playing songs and working on assignments in the dark, however, it was probably safe to say that there was nobody there.

Stopping to focus on my surroundings, I realized that I actually had no real idea where I was supposed to be heading to. Where had Brown's office been the last time I'd come here? I cast my mind back, trying to remember the exact location. Just standing here wasn't helping, and I sure as hell wasn't going to call him to find out. I didn't even want to be here. I didn't even _need _to be here. My uncle wasn't my father, and while I would much prefer Brown to be giving me hell over the police thing (because as much improved as my relationship with my father was, a semi-arrest probably wasn't something that would impress him) it didn't make me want to sit and listen to it.

Last time… it had been the room next to Music Room 13. Definitely. Nate and I had played a couple things in MR13 and then gone next door when Brown was finished talking to that student who went on to star in that Disney Channel thing. Not that we knew that then, of course.

Or had it been the room next to that? Two doors up from Music Room 13?

No. No. It had been the one next to MR13. It had. For sure.

I scanned the labels on the doors surrounding me and, finding that the closest one to me said MR8, my destination was a couple of doors up.

Digging my hands in my pockets, I made my way up to Music Room 13. Unlike the other rooms, there was a light on this one and, when I hovered outside the door for a fraction of a second, I could hear a faint piano melody. Looked like not all college students had crazy Friday night plans – at least one of them was sat here, working on whatever assignment Brown had set this week.

The quicker I found Brown, however, the quicker I was going to be able to get out of here and work on the assignment that was our latest album. It had taken over my life for the past year or so, and I was going to let it. It's not like I now had anything else to think too much about. Mitchie had walked out of my life yet again, and I wasn't counting on any sort of magnetism or fate to bring us back together again. We'd had way too many chances now.

I kept my gaze concentrated on my feet as I took the rest of the steps up to the next door, allowing Mitchie to plague my thoughts as she had ever since I'd met her. Without even coming to a standstill, I opened the door next to the music room and stepped inside, allowing it to close behind me… and found myself in the janitor's closet.

Definitely not Brown's office then. Unless the college really were short of money and were hiring my uncle to be both music teacher and custodian.

Why was life like this? You know that stupid saying: "when life closes a door, it opens another one"? Why does it always close the best one, leaving you to open the new one that has appeared, only to find that it leads to a worse way of life? Life closed the door on Mitchie, only to present me with a janitor's closet. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair at all.

While I was angry with myself, I still wanted to pass a little of the blame over to her. Mitchie, wherever she was, was unsure that I had changed. She was wrong to be unsure. I had changed, but three years is a hell of a long time. In all honesty, it seemed wrong of her to just think I could get over her so easily, to think that I wouldn't fight to see her again, to think that I _wouldn't _think of her and only her when I was doing something to possibly bring me closer to her.

For no real reason anger began to rise up inside me, uncontrollable in it's path, and I lashed out without thinking, kicking over one of the many big buckets that were standing to attention in front of me.

That was a mistake.

As it fell over, it caught the handle of a mop that was balanced very precariously on one of the rickety shelves. And suddenly, a torrent of cleaning implements was raining off the shelves, over the room and the floor and on my head. Brushes, cloths, bottles of cleaning sprays. Stumbling backwards, my shoulder whacked against the light switch and plunged the entire room, which felt as though it was still falling about around me, into darkness.

It only took seconds for the cascade of equipment to cease, but even when it did I remained rooted to the spot, my eyes screwed shut and my heart racing. The anger had subsided completely and now I was just plain shocked. _Shit. That wasn't supposed to happen at all. _(Note to self: spontaneous violent reactions don't end well for you - remember the punching the wall and the throwing of the phone?_)  
_

I stood there, unmoving, in the silence for a few more minutes until another sound caught my attention. Surely everything had to have finished falling now?

Opening one eye, I could see that there was nothing _left _to fall to the floor - the shelves were completely bare - and turned my head to see where the new noise had come from. A cry and a blur of red were all I could take in, before my face exploded in pain and everything went black.


	12. Note to the readers

Hi guys,

I'm sorry if you clicked on this expecting an update; this quite clearly isn't one. But I do have some news on that front, so it's not all bad.

I am completely revamping Believe In Me and the sequel, with the goal of having both finished by early next year. I wrote the former when I was sixteen, starting it almost three years ago now, and I just feel that if I'm going to finish this story, if I'm going to get Shane and Mitchie together in a manner that I'm satisfied with, I need to do it over to do it justice.

So this is what I'm saying to the 257 people who will have gotten the link to this note in their email: I am going to finish it. And I'm going to finish it better.

Life Is Life can be found if you go to my profile, with the first few revamped chapters up. I hope you guys like it, and can accept my apologies for being such a fail for the past year.

Charli


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